The Odds
by liz-loz
Summary: Sam Evans has been crowned victor of the 74th Hunger Games. Blaine is dead, along with the other 22 tributes. How will Sam deal with being a victor and his return back to District 12? Rated M for violence. Sequel to Ever In Your Favour
1. The Greyness Of Despair

_Right - the sequel is here!  
_

_If you are new to this story I suggest you read the prequel Ever In Your Favour first, else not much of this will make sense. If you did read it thanks for coming back!_

_I just want to assure you all that Blaine will appear in this story at some point in various capacities, so don't worry - your Blam needs will be satisfied! I can't say it will be an easy ride though..._

_So read on and enjoy - of course feedback is always appreciated :D_

_Liz xxx_

* * *

**The Odds**

**Chapter 1 - The Greyness of Despair**

The wall was grey. A bland, monotone grey that seeped into my eyes and turned everything the same, miserable colour. I knew I should have moved by now, made some attempt to show I was still alive, but I didn't want to. I was dead inside.

* * *

After the ladder had risen up into the hovercraft I'd begun to self-destruct. Four people had grabbed onto me, trying to stay my flailing limbs, stop the screams that shrieked from my mouth. They'd wrestled me and pinned me down onto a table – shoving needles into my arms so gradually my shouts became weaker and weaker until they disappeared completely.

When I'd next woken up I'd been in a hospital bed. The same needles were shoved inside me but these were now attached to wires and machines that beeped – showed me that I was still breathing. People came periodically to force food down my throat and then I'd drifted in and out of consciousness. When somebody finally came to speak to me they told me that three days had passed, that I was better and should prepare for my winning ceremony. I wasn't better – I was here.

Staring at the wall. Wanting to die.

* * *

A sound jerked me back to reality. It was nothing, just a leaf knocking against the window from the wind, but it averted my eyes from the wall. I was wearing khaki pants again. Somebody must have dressed me – these weren't my clothes from the arena. But they were the same. Glancing down at my skin I realised in disbelief that it was pristine – all the dirt and scars removed. Pulling up my trouser leg I saw the deep scar from Rachel completely erased, and my hand drifted across my cheek to feel no deep welt. I had been fixed. If somebody were to look at me now – they wouldn't even think I had been in the Games. But I had. Inside was a little harder to heal.

* * *

Everyone was dead. Tina, Joe, Rory, Marley, even Puck, Quinn and Rachel. And Blaine. Twenty four people had entered the arena and only one had come out. Me. They had all killed each other – I had killed some of them. But nobody had killed me.

* * *

Suddenly a door opened. Immediately I reacted. Instinct made me jump onto the bed, up high out of reach. There were no weapons about so I simply clenched my fists together and bared my teeth, ready to fight whoever had come in to attack me. The small red headed woman dropped the glass of water she had been carrying. For a second the smashing of glass brought back too many memories – suddenly transporting me to the small room on our home floor with huge glass windows, Tina cowering into my side as Haymitch shouted. I scrunched my eyes shut, almost feeling physical pain, but then suddenly I opened them, aware of what was actually happening. Nobody had come to attack me. The woman was just offering water. But I had treated her as a target.

"I'm, I'm sorry." I said quickly. My voice felt like it hadn't been used in a couple of weeks – it was hoarse and didn't add to my already aggressive introduction. My feet jumped off the bed and I moved forward to help the woman clear up the glass but she jumped backwards, eyes wide with fear.

"I'm sorry." The words didn't make much difference no matter how much I said them, but I repeated myself, hoping it would somehow get through. My fingers scrabbled to pick up bits of glass but I was halted by a hand darting out to tentatively grab my arm.

"Don't do that." The woman said, stuttering almost as much as I had. "You'll cut yourself." I stared down at my hands, which already looked to have tiny little slices on them, and wondered if I even cared. What was a little blood when I had seen gallons of it already. Thick, warm blood, gurgling in throats and spurting out of arms, of chests… I began to feel sick again so sat back against the bed and the woman ran off to get some cleaning utensils, or help.

* * *

What had happened? I couldn't even speak to people anymore. They were _scared_ of me. The attacking stance had been a mistake – but what had they expected? That after weeks of fearing for my own life, of having to watch every step, every movement that I made, that I would suddenly be ok? Just because I was out of the arena physically didn't mean I was free of it mentally.

* * *

A couple of minutes later the woman returned, this time with a bulky looking guard. I smiled, realising that this was supposed to be a deterrent. To be honest, he was barely bigger than Puck, who I probably could have taken out anyway. I watched them clean up the glass, using a little dustpan and brush, and then the two of them looked at me.

"How are you feeling Mr Evans?" The man asked. Mr Evans? I didn't think I had ever been called that in my life.

"Um…" I replied, not knowing how to answer. How _did_ I feel? "I felt a bit sick…earlier." I continued, hoping this was the right answer. The guard turned to look at the woman and she pondered for a second.

"That's probably just the morphling. Would you like some more water?" Immediately I shook my head.

"No, no. I'm fine, thanks." Seeming a little grateful the woman nodded towards the guard, showing that she was ok, and then turned back to me.

"Your team are ready to see you now."

* * *

I was lead down a long white corridor. There were windows either side, but when I looked out of them I saw nothing I recognised. I guessed I was still in the Capitol – probably a hospital of some kind – but whereabouts I had no idea. More guards had appeared to escort me, and whilst I couldn't see any weapons on them, I imagined they were probably hidden somewhere in their bulky uniforms. As my feet trapped forward I wondered whether I should be asking any questions – if I should be enquiring about where I was going. Then I saw Haymitch appear at the end of the corridor and everything made sense.

* * *

It was strange, I'd almost viewed Haymitch as a brother figure during our training for the Games – an estranged cousin that you still shared that familiar connecting bond with. But now, as he stood before me, his hair still bedraggled but smart clothes adorning his body and a smile on his face – he felt like a father. I felt my feet moving swiftly forward, a fast walk breaking into a jog and then a full-blown run. Haymitch didn't open his arms until I was merely a metre or so away but I threw myself into him, digging my face into his shoulder as his fingers closed over my back. For a second we didn't say anything, my lungs forcing air out of them at regular intervals, but then we drew apart and Haymitch whispered something to me.

"Well done kiddo." I smiled, the first time I had smiled in ages, and then suddenly my hands were around his neck. Haymitch didn't even realise what was going on for a second until suddenly his eyes went wide and his own hands shot up to try and prise mine away. I wasn't really sure what I was doing – why I was doing it – but I kept on squeezing, harder and harder until my mentor's face began to turn purple.

"Get him off him!" Someone screamed. Two guards gripped hold of my shoulders, yanking me away so I almost fell over and Haymitch gasped for breath, choking on the air that rushed quickly down his throat.

"Why didn't you save him?" I shouted, finally realising why I was upset. Haymitch was still trying to get his breath back so didn't reply, staring up at me in shock and disbelief.

"_What_?"

"Why didn't you save Blaine?"

"I couldn't." Finally my mentor answered back – his voice sounding hoarse like mine had in the grey room. "They would have killed me, killed you too, and him. He was supposed to die."

"No!" Tears were forming in my eyes, burning me after so long without them. "NO!"

"He did it for you." Haymitch said, standing fully upright but not moving any closer to my struggling body. "He died so you could survive. So you could win."

* * *

Effie stared at me with worried eyes. I had been escorted to our meeting room by four guards, with Haymitch surrounded by another three. He'd protested and said he was fine – that I wasn't going to hurt him again – but to be honest I didn't believe him myself. There was food on the table, good food that I was supposed to eat, but I couldn't bring myself to touch it.

"How are you feeling?" Effie asked after a while. I figured this question was going to be pretty common for a while so answered it honestly.

"Bad." Her heavily made up face contorted into an expression of sympathy and sadness. I suppose to my team, we were supposed to be celebrating. I had won after all. They were going to be heroes – _I _was a hero. This was a victory meal and we were discussing how I would make my grand entrance to the adoring crowds.

"How am I supposed to feel?" I said after a while, leaning back in my chair and raising my hands in the air. "Happy? That I'm alive? That everyone's _dead_?"

"I think you're supposed to feel confused." Haymitch replied, for once saying exactly the right thing. "But we're here to help you with that." I looked across at my team. People that had worked hard, coached me, supported me, helped me to victory. Someone was missing.

"Where is Cinna?" I asked. Haymitch nodded.

"Getting your outfit ready." Oh yes, the ceremony. I wondered what they were going to ask me – if it would be anything like my life-threatening interview three weeks earlier. I supposed now I could handle anything.

"You should eat." Effie said, pointing to the food in front of me. Completely ignoring the knife and fork placed either side of the plated my hand darted out to grab the hunk of meat and I ripped a piece off with my teeth. Haymitch laughed and Effie tried not to show her disdain.

* * *

I wanted to hug Cinna when I saw him, but was reluctant to incase it triggered another attack like Haymitch's had. Instead I held out my hand and he shook it, both of us exchanging a look that we knew meant more than words.

"Are you going to make me look handsome?" I asked, surprised I could manage humour given the circumstances. Cinna smiled, nodding.

"Of course." As I slipped the green suit on (not a trace of black or red anywhere I was glad to see) I glanced my reflection in the mirror and was shocked. Of course I still looked like myself, I still looked strong. But my muscle definition had waned considerably. I had lost a lot of weight.

"At least your shirts wont be so tight now." Cinna whispered – his own attempt at humour. I was still getting over the shock of my hollow appearance as my collar was sorted out and black shoes slipped over my feet. Would I still be attractive to people? That had been one of the reasons why I'd been so popular. Would people still adore this – the skinnier boy with uncontrollable violent tendencies?

"Don't worry" Cinna comforted, as if he could read what I was thinking. "Your public will adore you no matter what you look like."

* * *

The ceremony was in the evening. I hadn't realised the day had passed so quickly so was surprised at how quickly we were ushered everywhere. My whole team would be displayed to the thousands that had gathered in the main arena, the thousands that were forced to watch on their TVs. The prep team first including Cinna, then Effie, then Haymitch, then me. I wondered if I was supposed to be scared, nervous even – but then I realised I had experienced much worse. I had experienced not knowing if each breath was going to be my last, if I could overcome the crippling waves of grief that threatened to smother me and choke me to death. This was nothing.

"Countdown to prep team reveal…" A small man with a headset on instructed, holding up his hand so all five fingers pointed towards the ceiling. "Five, four, three, two, one…" A trap door opened and the podium with the people who had made me beautiful rose into the air. Immediately the deafening sound of screams could be heard – I almost cowered, putting my hands over my ears. So many things triggered bad memories inside my brain – it was impossible to keep track.

"Countdown to Effie reveal…" One by one the various members of my team were revealed to the masses. Haymitch received a cheer bigger than I had ever thought was possible. Then it was me.

"Stand here please." I was ushered onto the platform, where Haymitch had stood just minutes earlier. The headset man positioned my feet at the right angle, checked my costume and then nodded to someone behind me. "We're set." As I listened to the countdown I closed my eyes, trying to prepare for what was about to happen, what it might set off. The platform began to rise into the air…


	2. The Recap Of The Games

**Chapter 2 - The Recap of the Games**

For a second I wondered if I were in a nightmare. Screams. Endless screams. Shouts of things I couldn't hear, people crying. Deep blackness. Then I opened my eyes and was temporarily blinded by the stadium lights. When I adjusted to them I saw the screams were not out of fear, but adoration. The unintelligible things that were being screamed were messages to me, messages of love and dedication. People were crying over my win. My gaze shifted to the side and saw Haymitch, Effie, Cinna and the prep team all smiling at me. Suddenly I realised I probably should do something other than stare so lifted my hand in the air to wave and the crowd went nuts. I had never seen anything like it.

* * *

"SAM EVANS!" A loud voice boomed from the speakers. I recognised it as Caesar Flickerman's and turned round to see him beaming at me, shiny white teeth glinting in the lights. His hair was green now and it matched the sparkly suit he was wearing.

"Sam! Come on over here!" I walked back towards him, still unable to process the reception I had received. Cinna had been right. The public _loved_ me. As I reached Caesar he shook my hand and then directed me to a huge, incredibly majestic golden throne that I was told to sit down in. It seemed strange – like I was a king. And these were my subjects.

"Well Sam." Caesar said, once the noise of the crowd had died down and they had all begun to pay attention to him again. "What do you make of this reception?"

"It's…" I replied, not knowing what to say, "…it's amazing."

"It is indeed." I let my hands run along the beautifully crafted arms of the throne, the feeling of the smooth metal under my skin soothing. "Well they're all here for you. Sam Evans – winner of the 74th Hunger Games!" Another cheer rang out and I was forced to look into the crowd again. Thousands of people, further than the eye could see. I'd used to think the crowd at the reaping in District 12 was huge. But _this_. This was something else.

"How does it feel? To finally be out of the arena and on solid ground again?" I stopped feeling comfortable. The next three hours were going to be complete torture for me. Constant reminders of the Games, being forced to relive and even explain things that had happened. To watch every person that I had been up against die on a screen.

"It feels…" I said, not even knowing where to begin, "…it's hard to explain."

"Are you relieved?" Caesar asked, helping me out.

"I guess." I said. "That I managed to survive." It was obvious nothing much of merit was going to be extracted from me at such an early stage, so Caesar moved quickly onto the recap of the Games.

* * *

We started right from the reaping. Some of the other districts were featured briefly but most of the focus was on District 12 – I saw Tina's screaming body being hauled onto the stage and then my cool, calm one as I walked up, hands raised. They showed the shot of Stacey again and I gripped onto the golden chair arms tightly, trying not to let my distress show. A little screen at the bottom of the main one would often pop up and show my reaction – I needed to hold on, at least for longer than this. The cameras documented my route to the opening ceremony, watching me being ushered from train to train and seeing Tina often having to be helped by several pairs of hands – one of those usually mine. When the opening ceremony was shown I gasped at how breathtaking we both looked. It was like it wasn't even me I was watching. The transformation from the scared little boy that had tried to stay calm at the reaping to this confident glowing tribute was astonishing, and all in a matter of days. Next came the interviews. I seemed surprisingly calm, given the fact I was speaking for our lives. Nobody else would have even suspected something was up. My line about the pink bugs was played and a couple of the audience chuckled, knowing what was coming a few hours later.

* * *

Quickly the glitz and glamour of the ceremonies and presentations faded away to be replaced with the seriousness of the actual event. The cornucopia flashed onto the screen and all of a sudden I was there – I was back in the Games again. Sweat began to pool on my back – I knew this was the moment I would start to see the killings – the deaths of every one of the 23 other tributes.

Tina was first. Even on a screen her death was horrific. They had played me beforehand, screaming and banging on the glass tube, knowing there was nothing I could do. I looked desperate, distraught. As her body parts flew through the air I stumbled forward, disorientated and about to be attacked. A couple of the audience gasped, but I ducked out of the way of Harmony's knife and then turned to see Joe dropping to the ground. This was too strange, too much like I was replaying my life over. After this the cameras cut to the rest of the bloodbath, my stumbling off into the forest not interesting enough now.

* * *

Now I finally got to see who had killed who in the bloodbath. Of course Quinn had hacked Harmony to death – she had continued long after I had disappeared until her body was literally a mess of parts in the grass. Puck was ruthless – charging forward and taking out Becky from District 9 without even a sideways glance. Sebastian and Sugar jumped on the girl from District 3, pinning her to the ground and then slitting her throat as she tried desperately to grab hold of a supply pack. The most active tussle came nearer the mouth of the cornucopia. One boy had made it to the weapons – gripping hold of a spear and seeming relieved to have made it this far. Suddenly Puck appeared – his face and body already stained with the blood of his first kill. Their eyes met and the sandy haired boy immediately went to run. Quinn blocked his path and then Sebastian and Sugar appeared the other side. The fear in his eyes made me tremble, like I was actually experiencing it. Puck stepped forward, drawing his sword menacingly, and then they fought. Ducking, swiping, diving – Puck moved closer and closer to the boy, seeing him beginning to falter, the hope fading from his eyes. Then he stabbed him right in the chest. The cornucopia had been claimed. Within a mater of minutes.

It shocked me just how efficient the Careers were. What _would_ have happened if I had joined them? Would I have survived the way I did? Would I have become one of them?

The next person to die was Jesse. His fall from the tree was pretty spectacular – almost snapped his head right off his neck. The girl from District 6 had set up a campfire and made herself an obvious target for the Careers – Puck had been right – it was too easy.

* * *

Suddenly they cut to me in the cave. I was dying, desperate for water. It looked pretty pathetic – I was surprised they had shown me like this at all. Then I realised why. Blaine.

It was the first time they had shown him on the screen. I'd found it a little funny that not all of the Career districts had been featured much in the opening features, but now I saw their logic. They had been holding Blaine back and now they wanted to see my reaction. I crumbled. He seemed so strong willed, so commanding in his leadership. The Careers passed by my cave, talking about me – the conversation I had overheard. Blaine scanned his eyes rapidly around the area and now I knew why. He was searching for me, desperately. A pain in my gut began to form, a mixture of longing and regret and soul crushing guilt. I felt sick. The Careers moved on and I could see my face in the corner of the screen, trying to hold on.

* * *

The rest of the recap was torture. Now that Blaine had been introduced he was featured every few minutes – a constant reminder of his search and longing for me. Marley and Rory were discovered – that was almost as hard in itself. They seemed even younger on the TV, clinging to my hope like infants with a teddy bear. Rory's death was as graphic as I remembered it, although he still regained the utmost respect for his district, and Marley looked as devastated as I was. When they showed her running away and my frantic search, only to see her be violently stabbed by Sunshine and Jake and then me find her dying by the river, I dug my fingers into my hands. Somebody had filed my nails into perfect curves – whether this was for aesthetic reasons or so I couldn't use them to harm myself I wasn't sure, but I was beginning to struggle to block out the pain.

Next was Kurt. For some reason I watched this part. Half of me wanted to see if it had really happened – to check it wasn't just some horrific dream I had conjured up in my mind. The other half wanted to see what I looked like when I was a monster. It was worse than I'd thought. Many people in the audience gasped, some let out cries. I was sure nobody could support a person like this – someone who wasn't even human. But somehow I managed to pull myself through, somehow I managed to leave the mangled corpse of the District 8 boy behind and get on with my journey.

I was dying again, shaking and screaming in my cave, my humanity shrinking away from me. The piece of bread drifted down and I remembered how District 11 had saved me – how I wouldn't be standing here right now if it weren't for them. I tried to make some kind of movement to show my thanks, knowing it would be shown on the screen, but found I was frozen, my whole body tensed and rooted to the spot.

* * *

Quickly we flashed through mine and Blaine's reunion – it was so clear to the audience his devotion to me I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it at the time. I on the other hand seemed guarded and distant, struggling to let him into my world. Every second I refused his company seemed like a waste – I hated myself for giving it up. What I would do now for just a couple of those lost minutes again. As we struggled on and the District 3 boy tumbled to the ground, we played in the river and stumbled into the cave, almost killed each other but fought through, threw our arms around each other and crushed our lips together - I felt like I was being stabbed in the heart. They played every kiss – kisses filled with desire and lust and happiness. To the audience this was one of the highlights – the forbidden romance, star crossed lovers connecting in a place where love did not exist. To me it was torture. I began to feel myself unwravelling – the solid walls I had carefully constructed beginning to crumble and fall away, leaving my raw exposed pain underneath.

To my side I noticed Haymitch out of the corner of my eye. He seemed troubled, talking to someone else on the prep team. Then I looked up at the screen and saw my face – beginning to break. He was trying to get me out. Blaine and I were with Santana now, the death of Finn just having passed, but I couldn't focus properly on what was going on anymore. My fingers longed to sink into my flesh, to provide some pain that would distract me from the tirade crashing against my insides right now. How could winners do this? Sit here and look at all the death and destruction – know it was partly their creation? To relive every single moment of pain, replay the thoughts and feelings inside their head? I cursed the person that had filed my nails – I cursed the people who had saved me up in that hovercraft and plugged me with drugs and medicine to heal my wounds. I cursed Blaine for letting me live.

* * *

Suddenly I found something I could do to cause me pain. My teeth bit down on the inside of my cheek, sinking into the flesh so I felt the sharp sensation jolt through me but welcomed it. Haymitch had the attention of several people now – he was in danger of detracting from the screen but I wanted him to, I wanted people not to look at me and see that I wasn't any kind of winner – I was broken and lost. Listening to the sound of my screams as Santana was killed. Then the fireballs hit and I knew what was coming. The final battle.

I couldn't bring myself to look at the screen. Knowing it would cause controversy, that it was not the thing I was supposed to do, but unable to do anything else, I turned my head away and closed my eyes. My teeth bit down harder on the side of my cheek, my whole body beginning to vibrate as I struggled to keep control, to hold back the emotions I was feeling. I could hear the frantic whispers of Haymitch in the back on my head, trying to save me as his voice mixed with the shouts and cries, with the sound of metal on flesh, death and destruction. I gripped on tighter and bit down harder, willing for this all to end, for me to be free, alone. Then suddenly, a cheer.

* * *

I opened my eyes. The lights blinded me again but gradually there I was, on the screen. The Hunger Games victor. Everyone was on their feet, clapping and cheering. Caesar touched my arm and I realised I was supposed to stand, as he guided me up I forced my fists to unclench and my mouth to pull itself up into a smile. Smiling, waving, feeding my crowd. The crowd that had made this all possible. The crowd that had destroyed me beyond repair.

As I stood in front of the masses suddenly a figure appeared on the side of the stage. It was President Snow. Through all my thoughts about my pain and suffering I had almost forgotten his whole involvement in these Games, even with Panem. When you only ever saw someone on a TV screen, tiny and two dimensional, you almost wondered if they were real. But here he was.

As the President walked over I saw him carrying something in his hand. When I looked down I saw it was a cushion, with a golden crown placed on top. It was simple, thin but expertly made. You could tell the symbol of it was more important than the actual item. President Snow drew closer and I smelt the aroma of roses, but beneath that - and terrifyingly so - blood.

"Sam Evans." He said, his voice booming out through a microphone that must have been concealed beneath his great white beard. He stopped merely inches from my feet, looking directly into my eyes. "I crown you, winner of the 74th Hunger Games." As his hands moved to lift the crown off the pillow, I forced myself to look back at him, to stare down the person who had created such a monstrous event - who had killed so many innocent children just to get his way. The crown was placed on my head, the metal cold against my skin. Then the president stood back, revealing me to my public again. They cried and cheered - I waved, the crown heavy on my head. Then as the speakers boomed my name one final time I was walked off the stage, back to the safe haven of the darkness, the anonymity of cameraless rooms.

* * *

As soon as I stepped into the room I immediately stumbled forward. Hands jerked out to grab me and when I opened my mouth a stream of blood came out. I'd been biting down so hard on my cheek that a huge gash had appeared on the inside and now it was pouring onto the floor, the taste making me feel sick. As people tried to help me I pushed them away, running over to the corner and then vomiting everywhere. The crown dropped to the floor with a clang but I left it there, swimming in the pool of filth. Was this what my life was going to be like now? Being constantly reminded, constantly forced to bring up my suffering until it ripped me completely in two and I was lost forever? The vomit spewed from my mouth, burning my insides, making me feel like I was a dead tribute – that any minute now a hovercraft would appear to retrieve my lifeless body and bring it back in a wooden box to District 12. I was sick until there was nothing left, until I coughed emptiness and sank to the floor, staining my clothes with my own filth. Haymitch was beside me, babbling words I couldn't understand, didn't want to. I thought I couldn't speak but then one word came out of my mouth, hoarse but clear.

"Drugs."


	3. The Haze Of Drugs

**Chapter 3 - The Haze Of Drugs**

The hazy grey room came into view again and I sighed with relief. Everything felt dulled, the movements of my arms, the way my eyes scanned the area, the thoughts in my brain. But I was glad. The pain was dulled too. Suddenly noticing Haymitch sitting on a chair that hadn't been there before, I saw the pain and stress etched in his face. The work of a mentor wasn't when their tribute was in the arena, it was holding them together when they won – showing them how it was possible to get through the nightmare and survive. Right now I wasn't doing very well. With the movement of my awakening, he jerked into action, standing up from his chair and coming over.

"Sam, are you ok?" He asked. I smiled lazily.

"The pain feels better." Haymitch's eyes scrunched up. It was hard to follow his gaze with my swimming vision but it seemed he was checking me over.

"He's awake." He suddenly said, looking over at someone I also hadn't realised was here. "How high a dosage is he on?"

"Pretty high. We had to put him out cold to slow his heart rate." I looked at my arm, punctured with a needle and a long transparent tube coming out of it – following the plastic upwards I saw it attached to a drip filled with what must have been morphling. My new best friend.

"Can you cut it off?" The words didn't register in my brain for a few seconds, Haymitch's voice floating over my head like bubbles.

"Yes, but it's not advised – Mr Evans is in a very fragile state." I slowly came to my senses, seeing my mentor's hand drift towards my arm, looking to grasp hold of the tube.

"Do it."

* * *

The scream that flew out of my mouth shocked everyone. Haymitch jumped backwards, tripping over the chair and sending it crashing to the ground. My violence had jerked the tube free from my arm so liquid began to drip everywhere – I frantically tried to replace it, stabbing my arm as I did so, and then somebody grabbed hold of it and stopped me.

"Mr Evans!" I stared at the nurse with rage. It surprised me how little she flinched, but then again, she was probably used to dealing with people like me. Suddenly Haymitch was on his feet again, looking angry.

"I thought you were supposed to be out of it." He muttered, examining a cut on his elbow that was beginning to seep blood through his shirt.

"You tried to take my drugs away." I replied simply. I couldn't believe he was trying to bring back my pain. It felt like betrayal.

"Morphling is not good for you Sam." He replied, trying to talk sense into me but struggling.

"Yes it is!" I cried back. "It's the only thing that stops the pain!"

"But what happens when you leave the Capitol? What happens when you run out of drugs? What will you do then?" I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to think about surviving outside of these grey walls. It was too much to take.

"Anyway," my mentor continued, "you have your interview tomorrow. If you stay like this they'll get nothing but slurs." Interview? _Interview_? Oh Christ how was I supposed to get through this? Haymitch's transition from caring father figure to unsympathetic manager made me angry.

"I'm not doing it." I said firmly, trying to clench my fists but finding that my hands wouldn't co-operate properly. "Not without the drugs."

"Sam, _listen to me_-"

"Do you want a repeat of the Games recap?" That seemed to shut him up. I was never going to go through something like that again. Not alone.

"Fine." Haymitch grumbled, letting his hands flop down and turning to walk back towards the window. "But don't blame me if this all blows up in your face."

* * *

A day and a half later I was being prepped for my interview. It was being held in our home block so I was currently in my bedroom, which had been transformed into a dressing centre. My bed hadn't been used since I had returned from the arena so it was pushed to the side to make way for tables and mirror and chairs. I had yet another suit on, this one with a little padding wedged inside it to combat the additional weight I had lost since the Games recap, and Cinna was a few feet away, discussing something whilst other members of my prep team played with my hair. After much discussion I had been weaned down to a quarter of the original morphling dose I had been given the day of the recap – I felt fully conscious but there was that slight edge of lethargy that made me more comfortable with what was about to happen.

"All this waiting around isn't good for the television producers." One of the prep team, snipping pieces off my hair that I was sure were supposed to stay on, chatted to her friend behind me. "They're having to schedule all kinds of things."

"And who wants reruns around this time?" Apparently my meltdown had messed up the timings a little. They had been replaying my story of the Games – ironic when that was what had caused me to freak out in the first place.

"You'd think people would be a little more considerate." Something pulled at a clump of my hairs – I yelped out in pain, my hand shooting up to touch it, but I was batted away and the person behind me tutted. More _considerate_. Like the Capitol had always been.

* * *

Suddenly Cinna returned. He seemed to have been negotiating something and he must have succeeded because there was a smile on his face.

"Are you ready Sam?" He asked me once we were close enough to talk. I shrugged my shoulders, not really wanting to use up too much energy before it would be needed on full display for the cameras.

"Haymitch and I have been talking with the producers – there are certain topics we've managed to make them stay clear of but others you will have to get through – it's what the public wants. I nodded my head, partly due to the drug influence I was still under and partly because I simply didn't care what the public wanted anymore. All I wanted was to get this over and done with.

"Ok, let's get this thing moving." Cinna gave me a sympathetic smile, signalled to a man wearing a headset, and watched me as I was ushered out.

* * *

The sitting room looked strange. The layout had barely been touched – for a second it felt like I was stepping back there for the first time. Tina was beside me and Haymitch was about to give us some instructions about how to stay alive. Then I noticed the lights, the cameras, the TV man beside me instead of my District 12 friend, and Caesar Flickerman sitting on the couch.

"Sam." He said, holding out a hand and shooting me an understanding look. I held out my hand limply and allowed him to shake it, before I was told to sit down on the other side of the couch.

"How are you feeling?" Caesar asked. I knew his words held genuine concern, but still couldn't get the hatred out of my thoughts for this whole debacle.

"Fine." I said bluntly, even though I wasn't. I was far from it. The TV crew signalled and chattered to each other and I knew pretty soon the countdown would begin to airing. Taking a deep breath I forced myself to clear the fog in my brain, went through the procedures Haymitch had taught me to try and cope, to try and get through this.

"Five…four…three…two…one…"

Action.

* * *

"Well hello citizens of the Capitol! It's me, Caesar Flickerman, coming to you live from what used to be the home of Sam Evans, right before his victory in the 74th Hunger Games." Caesar began his opening schpiel – I knew it would be a while before I was expected to say anything. It was strange not being in front of a crowd but knowing everyone was watching you – kind of like being back in the Games. I shuddered at the thought and hoped nobody had noticed.

"And now with a little more rest and recuperation, Sam is here with me now to tell us all the true story of _his _Games." Caesar turned my way and flashed me a winning smile, I returned it, the best smile I'd given in days. Completely fake.

"Well Sam," Caesar began, starting the interview off slowly, testing the waters, "how does it feel to be back in this building?" For a second I wondered if my lungs would work, if I would be able to force the words out of my mouth or if I would just sit dumbfounded in front of thousands. But eventually, they came.

"It's a little strange." I said, speaking truthfully. "Not a lot has changed about it."

"Do you hold any specific memories in this building?" Too many. Tina's freak outs, collapsing crying in my room, Haymitch's attack on all of us…

"Not really. Just preparing for training." My mentor's face showed a little sign of relief. Maybe he had been worried I would rat him out. I had been callous but I wasn't stupid.

"So when you first set foot in that arena, when you rose up and saw it for the first time – did you think you were going to win the Games?"

"I didn't think I was going to _win_. I thought I had a good chance of surviving at least past the bloodbath. I wasn't planning on killing anyone unless I really had to." The words were coming easier now – maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I'd thought. If Caesar focused just on me, maybe I could get through this.

"And what about Tina? What was your reaction to her death so early on in the games?" Too late. My face fell – obviously noticeably because some of the crew immediately shifted. Into damage control positions.

"I know this is a sensitive subject for you Sam…" Caesar started, trying to backtrack a little, "What with the thoughts still fresh in your mind. But allow me to-"

"-It was awful." I replied. The response shocked everyone, most of all me. "I didn't know what to do. I wasn't expecting it – I was expecting her to die at some point, but not then. Not without even trying to make it. It tore me in two." Caesar's eyes were still a little wide with surprise. For a second it seemed like he almost forgot he was on camera. Then, abruptly he snapped back into action.

"Yes, I can understand. To lose one's district partner so early in the show is a crushing blow. And it almost cost you your Games didn't it?" We carried on, the TV crew looking on in astonishment. I could still feel the dull ache in the centre of my bones from the drugs, but I was pushing through it. I was making my way out to the finish.

* * *

When cut was finally called everyone relaxed. Even Caesar, who I hadn't realised had been on such tenterhooks. He smiled, reaching his hand out to shake mine again and nodding his head in a way that showed he understood, but was grateful. As everyone got to their feet I stayed motionless in my chair, looking out through the window at the landscape of the Capitol. This was it. I had finished my duties here, for now. I could go. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. Looking up I saw Haymitch staring at me, a mixture of emotions in his eyes.

"Ready to go home?" He asked. I didn't say anything. Just nodded.


	4. The Return Of The Victor

**Chapter 4 - The Return Of The Victor**

It felt strange to be sitting in the train again. To be honest, I had hoped, but never truly believed that I would be in here again. District 12 weren't supposed to win the Hunger Games. The smiling face of a Career was supposed to light up the screens of thousands in the aftermath – their lively chatter and detailed explanations of deaths to fill up radio broadcasts and show the people how glorious winning was. Minor Districts weren't designed to be in the spotlight, they didn't know how to cope, how to react. I hadn't lived up to the Capitol's expectation. I was a weak winner – a winner that cared too much. I was broken.

Still however, the throngs of people that had waved goodbye with tearful sighs and cries as I departed in the shiny silver train had made me feel a little sick. Even after all my breakdowns and refusals to co-operate, I still had thousands of fans. The Capitol must have spun me a very convincing web, because to many, I was their hero. I had deserved to win.

I however, felt differently.

* * *

The sliding door to my bedroom opened. Haymitch strolled inside, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. It seemed the drinking was back.

"How're ya doing buddy?" He asked. I hung my head, not being able to face the conversation we were about to have. As my mentor strolled up he placed a hand on my shoulder. I could smell the alcohol in the bottle, but not on his breath.

"Want some?" Suddenly the bottle was moved closer to my face. I looked back up, wondering if he was joking.

"Seriously, take some." Haymitch said with a smile.

"I thought I wasn't allowed drugs." I replied, my voice monotone and flat.

"Well this doesn't count." I looked back at the bottle, seeing the brown semi-transparent liquid sloshing around inside it. I had only drunk liquor once in my life, at a party with the local community. The warmth in my belly had travelled to my head and felt nice, but then some girl had tried to kiss me so I'd refrained from the toxic beverage ever since. Now however, I wasn't the old Sam anymore, and there weren't any girls around to try anything. I grabbed hold of the bottle and took a swig.

* * *

The liquid tasted disgusting. I almost gagged, but managed to hold it in, swallowing and feeling the burn race down my throat.

"Strong isn't it?" Haymitch said, chuckling. I nodded, still coughing and spluttering a little. As he sat down beside me I saw him take his own sip with ease. Was this what my life would boil down to now? Dependence on drugs? I had already experienced the addiction of morphling – even now I was still on a small dose, being weaned off slowly until I was completely clear. To Haymitch this was the only way he could get through things, see clearly. Or not as the case may have been.

"How long does it take to kick in?" I asked, even though I could already feel the curl of heat on the surface of my skin.

"Oh you'll know." Haymitch replied, offering the bottle to me so I could sip again. "You'll know."

* * *

I allowed my thoughts to drift as I watched the rushing countryside go by. Finally I was returning home – finally I would get to see the people I most cared about again, who I had been fighting for this entire time. I knew that when I saw them, a piece of me would be filled again, hopefully enough to pull me through and perhaps bring me back to reality. But then again, so many parts of me were still missing that I wasn't sure if that were possible. The gaping hole Blaine had left in my heart couldn't be plugged by anything – it _ached_ for him. I missed him.

"How did you feel?" I asked suddenly, turning my head a little too quickly so for a second my vision blurred and I had to grab hold of the chair, "when you lost your girlfriend?" Haymitch's face scrunched up in pain. I knew it probably wasn't my place to bring up such things, but I wanted to know.

"I didn't feel anything." He replied, honestly. "It was like it hadn't happened. I expected her to just be there, that it had all been a dream. But it wasn't." I felt like that too. There were times I dreamed of Blaine – dreams so vivid I could swear they were real – him curled up against me, his soft black hair brushing against my face as we lay together. Then, I would open my eyes and panic, feel around for him in the darkness. But there was nothing. He was gone.

"It doesn't get any better, does it?" I asked, feeling the warmth of the alcohol flickering stronger in my belly, licking up the side of my body towards my head.

"No." Haymitch replied, almost smiling in a bitter way. "It gets worse."

* * *

Haymitch and I spent the majority of the journey home drunk. I knew this was the wrong thing to do – that I was destroying myself even further and should be preparing for what would be an intense couple of days. But I couldn't bring myself to. Haymitch understood my pain, so we sat in my room, drunkenly talking about things that had no real meaning, and some that meant almost too much to bear.

* * *

A few hours before we were due back at District 12, we were dragged separately from the room into a shower and scrubbed down, much to my protest. When I surfaced, I was given clothes to put on, clothes that still reeked of the Capitol, and afterwards told to convene in the dining carriage. When I finally entered it I saw Effie sitting at the table, lightly nibbling on a piece of celery.

As our eyes met I saw a mixture of things in them. First there was happiness, joy at seeing me again. Then there was worry, over my previous state, over how I was still a little hungover despite the miraculous cure someone had given me. Then, sadness.

* * *

"Sam!" She said cheerily, the same tone she had used consistently throughout my entire time knowing her. I walked over to the table, glancing over at the plethora of food. Despite nearly dying of hunger several times, I wasn't as eager to shove the delicacies in my mouth as most people would think. Actually the sight of this food repulsed me. I settled for an apple, biting into it and feeling the juices dribble down my chin.

"So, you and Haymitch have been having _fun_ I see?" The distain in her voice was evident. I had always enjoyed the banter between my mentor and our so-called 'organiser' and this was no exception. I smiled, glancing back at her with a mouth full of fruit.

"Yes. Lots of fun." Now that I was eating again I realised how hungry I actually was, so picked up a piece of chicken and took a bite from it, not caring that I was mixing the wrong kind of flavours. The knife and fork by my plate lay untouched – I guessed it was going to take me a while to use those again. Glancing back at Effie I saw her trying to hide a grimace and smiled once more.

"We will be arriving at District 12 in just under an hour." Effie said, beginning what would obviously be my brief of proceedings. "As soon as you get off the train you will be required to make a speech. Then, you will publicly be reunited with your family.

My family.

* * *

I almost dropped the chicken I was eating. What would my family say if they saw me like this? Hungover, tearing at meat like an animal, dribbling everywhere? I may have felt like crap, but I wasn't going to look like it to them. No, I would sort myself out.

"Is there any water?" I asked suddenly. Effie seemed a little surprised at my request, but leant over and carefully picked up a jug of the clear liquid. I poured myself a glass and downed it in one, feeling the sloshing in my empty stomach as it mixed with the food I had just consumed.

"How much food can I eat?"

"As much as you want, Sam my dear." Effie replied, happiness suddenly spreading across her face. "But be careful – we don't want it coming up all over your new outfit now do we?" I picked a few more things off the table, now placing them carefully on my plate, and grasped hold of the knife and fork, hoping I wouldn't make a mess.

* * *

As the train drew up into the station suddenly my stomach was filled with something other than food. Butterflies. The last time I had been here we had been leaving – not knowing if we would ever see our families again. And now only I had returned. The train halted and immediately Effie rose to her feet. She had barely touched any of the food so looked pristine and immediately began reeling off a list of instructions to people that suddenly appeared from all corners of the room. I felt a little off balance, being twisted this way and that, but Haymitch appeared to make sense of it all.

"Come this way Sam." He said, waving me over. I moved, a gaggle of people following me as I did so, and when we joined up eyed him with concern.

"What's happening?" I asked. Haymitch clapped me hard on the shoulder.

"You're coming home."

* * *

It wasn't until I reached the outer doorway to the train that I heard it. The low rumble of chatter. For some reason I hadn't expected a large turnout – the crowds of the Capitol too grand for me to even fathom something like that back at my home District. But gradually I began to realise that this was something big – children would have been given days off school for this, miners would have come out of their underground holes. Everyone was here to see my return. When the doors finally opened I was met with them in full force.

* * *

It was funny. I didn't receive the screams and cheers of adoration the Capitol had given me. For a second I was a little disappointed, then I looked back at the hundreds of staring, amazed faces and realised. This wasn't adoration. This was respect.

"Hello!" Effie said cheerfully, suddenly by my side. I hadn't noticed her approach so jumped, causing a few people to laugh, but then I returned my attention to the crowds again. They stretched back further than the eye could see – much more than when I'd made the first journey from here. They were all here to see me, to congratulate me.

"Well come along, keep moving!" Suddenly I was ushered forward by Effie. Almost stumbling I managed eventually to regain the movement of my feet. I had been given funny Capitol shoes that were too shiny and pinched against my toes. I couldn't wait to be rid of all these things and back into the loose fitting clothes I wore to school. If I were ever to go back there of course. As I moved forward people parted to let me and my team pass. Nobody really said anything – there were whispers and murmurs amidst the crowd. But I received nods and smiles of appreciation. Effie led us forward, beaming at anyone who would tear themselves away from me to look at her, then I watched as she climbed the steps to the main stage. Christ. They still had the stage. The one I had been reaped on. Was _this_ where I would make my address? I didn't think I could do it, I didn't think I could go up there again. Suddenly Haymitch was beside me. Obviously noticing my distress, he had picked up his walking pace and now stepped in sync with me.

"This is the last time you have to pretend." He murmured, too quietly for anyone else to hear, but loud enough that I would. "For a long time, this is the last time you have to pretend that you're ok." I nodded, gritting my teeth together and curling my fists into balls. As my foot hit the first step I closed my eyes, rather like I had when the platform had risen and I'd been revealed to thousands upon thousands of adoring Capitol fans. Now it was my people, my family. My feet shakily moved me up, until there was nothing left to step onto. Then I heard the announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you're winner of the 74th Hunger Games – Sam Evans!"


	5. The Reunion Of A Family

**Chapter 5 - The Reunion Of A Family**

As I stepped out and opened my eyes it was like I had gone back in time. Suddenly I was here three weeks ago – standing staring out at the masses of silent people. Tina had just been subdued, lying limply on the chair next to me, and Effie was beaming at me with that same smile, holding my name on a tiny little piece of paper. She was here now, but no paper lay in her hands. On the huge screens I could see out of the corner of my eye I noticed there were giant signs behind me – 'Congratulations', 'District 12 Hunger Games Victor', 'Sam Evans'. Everything seemed so joyful and yet the crowd were silent, nobody had still said anything. I was silent too, no smile adorning my face. I looked shocked, and terrified.

* * *

For a second nobody knew what to do. Effie had obviously been expecting a reaction so seemed a little puzzled and unnerved, but then suddenly a lone person from the crowd started clapping. As my eyes searched to find out who is was I saw to my surprise Mike Chang – my old friend and now Tina's grieving boyfriend – smacking his hands together loudly. Gradually everyone around him started to join in, teenagers, adults, children alike. The clapping got louder and louder and suddenly there were cheers, shouts of happiness. The people were celebrating. I was their victor. As the cheering rang out I turned to Haymitch, who smiled and simply gestured to the crowd again. Effie looked beside herself, curtsying and clutching her heart even though most of the celebration had nothing to do with her. I looked out at the crowd again and saw the faces of many people I knew, many people I had gone to school with or seen down by the mines or Tesserae centre. They all knew me now – they knew me better than I knew myself. Realising I should do something, something to show my gratitude, I raised my hand in the air and waved. More people cheered, the applause got louder. This felt like real respect. Not the sickening adoration the surgically altered and strangely over the top Capitol masses had given me. This felt like my victory had been deserved.

* * *

After a minute or so of applause and waving, Effie finally moved up to the microphone and tapped it to silence everybody.

"Greetings District 12!" She said cheerfully. For once a few noises followed her words. "We welcome back our winner of the 74th Hunger Games, Sam Evans. And doesn't he look great?" A hand shot out to point towards me and several people cheered, others laughed at the cheesiness of it all. "Sam will now come and say a few words before he is reunited with his family." My family. I'd completely forgotten about that. They hadn't been in the crowd – did that mean they were somewhere else? Were they right behind this stage already? Effie realised her mistake as now I was completely distracted – hands lightly pushed me forward and as I stumbled over to the centre of the stage I was handed several cue cards with writing on. Thank goodness – a speech. Nodding briefly at Effie in thanks I took the final steps to the microphone, clearing my throat so the sound rang out over the square.

"District 12." I read slowly from the first cue card, my voice a little shaky. "It is good to be back. Whilst the Hunger Games were tiring and deadly, the thought that kept me going was returning home here, and this moment, right now." The crowd were silent, listening intently to my words. "I thank you all for your support – as without it I would not have come out as victor. I hope the rewards this District now receives will reflect the dedication and love we all share for each other, not just for myself and the Games. Thank you." Apart from the end part, it was a perfect speech. Obviously I had written not a word of it, but I still smiled at the end, proud of Effie's work. The crowd immediately clapped and cheered, the same sounds that brought joy to my heart. Then the announcer spoke again.

"Thank you Sam. Now, we present – the Evans family." I turned round and for a second everything stopped. Entering from the side of the stage, were Mother, Stacey and Stevie. Stevie had not changed a bit – still the energetic seven year old he always had been. Mother looked old and haggard – the stress of the competition and seeing her son fight for his life obviously taking it's toll. But Stacey. Stacey looked…it was hard to describe. All the fat had been sucked from her face, just like mine in the arena. She was skin and bones but somehow through all of that I could see in her eyes the immense and total relief. She ran towards me, her steps clunking loudly across the stage. My arms stretched open wide and a smile bigger than anything I had managed in weeks broke across my face as she threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly. It was like hugging a rag doll. Stacey dug her face into my shoulder, sobbing loudly so I could feel the tears seeping through my immaculate shirt. I gripped hold of her firmly, scared she might break but not wanting to let go at the same time, and felt myself beginning to sob too. When she finally pulled away I kissed her cheek and watched her chest rise and fall as she struggled to breathe, as we both took in the fact that the other was here. Looking upwards I saw that mother had finally reached us – Stevie dropped down to run over and hug me, letting me scoop him up and spin him round in the air – like I had used to do countless times at home. Then I kissed him on the cheek and gave him to Stacey, staring back at the woman who had sacrificed so much of her own sanity to keep our family moving. Who had loved me and cared for me, and would probably have to do the same for a long long time. I closed the gap between mother and I, wrapping my arms round her and simply standing there, holding ourselves together.

"I love you Mother." I whispered, feeling the tears pooling in my eyes again as she stroked my back gently and also cried. "I love you so much."

"I love you too Sam." Mother said. It was the perfect reunion. Finally I almost felt whole again. Finally I felt like I was home.

* * *

All of us were rushed off the stage and into cars. Obviously we were now too famous to walk anywhere so our escorted ride drove us away from the main square to our new home in Victors Village. So far only Haymitch resided there, so we had the pick of the houses. Mother had chosen the one closest to town, and next to my mentors, which I was grateful for. As we pulled up I realised Stacey and Stevie had not let go of me for the entire journey. Stacey almost seemed the same age as our brother – her eyes filled with youthful joy that I didn't expect from the normally boisterous teenager. It took a lot of effort to get us to part for the short walk to the front door, but when we stopped by it I held out my hand and she clutched onto it gratefully.

"So, Sam," the guard that had taken us from the stage said with a smile, "welcome to your new home."

* * *

It was strange. My family had lived so long in semi-squalor it seemed unnatural to be stepping into a fully furnished house. Like we had taken a wrong turning and suddenly driven into District Three. Most of the furniture from our old house was here – something I was glad of, but there were chairs and tables and cabinets that I had never seen before – things that were now ours. As I stepped inside the guard started explaining and showing me all the new things my victors house provided – I was sure Mother could do this just as well but was happy to grip onto her hand and nod my head as everything was relayed. We had almost constant hot water now, a reliable stove, our own television – even a phone that could be used to call the other victor's houses. So Haymitch then. It was a little too much to take, especially with the realisation that I was finally home still to contend with. When the guard finally finished explaining I thanked him for his time, realising I didn't have anything to tip him with so grabbing something off the kitchen counter and handing it to him. He seemed incredibly grateful and I imagined it would be going up on the wall somewhere – a trophy to show off to all his friends. When he finally left and the doors closed behind us for a moment everything was silent. Mother was still getting over the fact that her son was back – I was still getting over having my family again. I had done it, I had kept to my word and returned home, for them. No matter what the cost.

"Sam?" Mother asked, her voice inquisitive, but also hopeful - like some part of her still didn't believe that I was fully here, that I was real.

"Yes Mother?" I replied.

"Do you like it?" I stared around at the room and nodded my head.

"Yes. Very much so." I looked at Stevie and Stacey, the pair of them staring at me with adoring eyes. I loved my family. I loved them more than anything in the entire world.

"Now you promise me." Mother suddenly said, stepping forward and tears pooling in her eyes for the umpteenth time. "You _promise_ me that you will _never_ leave us like that again." She said. I nodded, feeling a pang in my chest that shot right up to my throat as a sob.

"I promise." I replied, stepping forward to throw my arms around her again. "I promise."


	6. The Rebuilding Of A Life

**Chapter 6 - The Rebuilding Of A Life**

The next few days passed very swiftly. It took a while for me to settle in, everything so strange and new. Mother, Stacey and Stevie did their best to make me feel at home – Stevie working wonders without even trying. Gradually I noticed the flush in my sister's cheeks begin to return, the filling out of her arms and hips. It made me happy to know that my return had brought her back to life, although I dreaded to think what might have happened if I had not come back. I also began to regain my strength, so much so that I allowed myself to venture outside the confines of my new abode on countless occasions.

* * *

When I visited school there was a huge kerfuffle. Many people looked at me like I was a celebrity – spoke to each other in hushed voices, blushed scarlet when I so much as looked in their direction. I greeted Mike with a long hug, thanking him for his contribution to my homecoming ceremony. I wanted to ask him about Tina, and where her body was now buried, but figured this would be a conversation for later. Amazingly, the most interesting person to talk to was Brody. I singled him out almost immediately – partly because he stood alone, but also because of the disfigured state of his face. Effie hadn't been wrong when she'd said that people had turned on him – bruises and scars marked his previously perfect complexion. It shocked me how people could condone violence in an arena but force it upon someone who had simply made an arrogant mistake – immediately I felt sympathy for him so walked over, causing a few gasps and murmurs to ring out.

"Hello Brody." I said, holding out my hand so he shook it. Brody stared up at me in wonder, but also incredible sadness.

"I'm so sorry." He said suddenly, gripping onto my hand a little longer than I was expecting, almost like he was repenting. "For not volunteering to take your place. For putting you through that." I shook my head. Brody didn't need to apologise. This wasn't his fault. It wasn't anybody in District 12's.

"Don't worry." I replied plainly, a sad smile spreading across my face as I spoke. "You made the right choice."

* * *

Now I sat alone on the hilltop, looking down over the District. It had been so long since I'd been alone, it was good to get away from everything. If I closed my eyes I could almost pretend it was spring again, the blossom falling slowly from the trees. As I ran my fingers along my bare arms, across my face, it felt strange to feel no marks or scars. I was partly glad for the Capitol doctors' magical removal of those wounds, not just for aesthetic reasons, but another part of me wished they had been kept. So I could remember that this had not just been a game. That I had nearly died several times to be where I was now. Sadly other things out of my control brought back these memories.

* * *

My first night back at home I had slept almost peacefully. Maybe it was the fact I was finally home, maybe it was because we all slept in the same bed, Stacey and Stevie curled up beside my while mother slept on the edge, our hands clasped together. When I had awoken I had smiled, wondering if this would be the way I would piece myself back together and begin to forget the horrors I had been through.

The next night proved me wrong.

* * *

I had been standing on the roof of the cornucopia again. A shout had brought me to my senses – a shout I recognised. Running over the edge of the ridge I saw the figure of Blaine and felt my heart leap. He was calling my name but as I went to join him I saw he was being attacked by Rachel. They were acting out the fight between Puck and Quinn, slashing at each other with the roof tiles. Blaine's cries I now realised were for help – he was losing. Rachel advanced on him further – her face wild with anger and her own body bleeding from many wounds. Blaine staggered backwards and tripped on a tile, sending himself crashing to the floor. I rushed forward but Rachel had already flung herself on top of him – stabbing him over and over again in the heart. The blood flew everywhere – I rushed over to save him but he was already dead – a mess like the District 8 boy had been. As Rachel swerved to attack me I found my hands jerking out to push her violently backwards. She stumbled and fell, rolling down and down until she tumbled off the edge and was devoured by the giant pink bugs that lay in wait. I immediately turned back to Blaine, jumping on top of his lifeless body and desperately trying to revive him. It was hard to figure out the parts of his face, so covered were they with blood, and I was about to lose hope when suddenly his eyes opened, wide and menacing.

"Blaine?" I had exclaimed, before I recognised the look in his eyes. The same as Rachel's. Before I knew it a roof tile was being plunged into the centre of my heart, the maniacal laugh of Blaine echoing in my ears.

* * *

I screamed, jerking upwards in my bed. Stacey screamed too, her body rolling off the mattress and smacking onto the floor. Sweat covered my entire body, my hair stuck up at ridiculous angles and my heart was hammering. It had been a dream, it had been a dream. But the scene…so real…and Blaine. Suddenly the pain of losing him hit me again. I screamed once more, clutching my chest and begging for it to stop, for the pain to go away. Stacey called mother in to try and help but eventually I had to be left alone to ride it out. This happened every night.

* * *

In the daytime I wasn't safe either. Mother had begun to prepare dinner – roast lamb, my favourite. I had been banished to the front room to play some game with Stevie but had become bored so had ventured into the kitchen and saw her struggling to chop at something.

"Hey, do you want help with that?" I had asked. Mother had nodded, stepping away gratefully, but as I had approached and been handed the knife she had been using, suddenly I was hit with a flashback. Knives, used to stab and maim, to kill my friends, leave them bloody and dying on the floor. Without thinking I had thrown the knife across the roof, almost hitting mother on the head and sending it thunking into one of our kitchen cabinets. Mother had screamed and the sound had triggered another flashback in me, thousand of screams filling up my head so I dropped to the floor and sent the food for dinner tumbling down with me.

"MAKE IT STOP!" I had screamed, thrashing my arms and legs when mother had tried to help me, almost injuring her. "MAKE IT GO AWAY! MAKE IT STOP!" I hadn't come to my senses for at least half an hour, our dinner long forgotten, but when I did the look in mother's eyes had hurt more than any pain. Fear. I didn't prepare meals from then on – in fact everything I did was watched with tenterhooks. My family supported me and I knew they would never push me away, but it still wasn't enough – I felt like a madman, a prisoner in my own home. So I started to leave.

* * *

Sometimes I would go to Haymitch's house. He seemed to understand, he had been through the rage bouts and unstoppable triggers. Sometimes we would drink and sometimes I would try and get him to stop drinking. He felt more like my father every day and I more like his son. I wasn't sure if that was worrying or not.

Sometimes I would go up to the hilltop and scream and shout, other times I would run down to the mines and contemplate just throwing myself down a hole and never coming back. Eventually I decided if I was going to lead an angry life, I might as well use channel it into something productive.

* * *

The coal was heavy but I had no trouble throwing it into the truck, sack by sack. When I'd walked up to the mining recruitment office and asked for a job everyone had raised their eyebrows at me. A Hunger Games victor – _working_? I certainly didn't need the money, we had more than enough now, and food too. But I had simply ignored them and asked about vacancies. There was no way I was going down into the actual mines – my fear of caves had developed into full on claustrophobia that meant I was highly unstable in any small dark space – but my strength and muscles had improved massively since I'd started eating properly again, so I was given a manual labour job on the surface. I enjoyed it. It was simple, stress free and tiring so I pretty much went straight to bed when I got home – no time to really dwell on the past until my nightmares started again. My skin had an almost constant black tinge to it now, but I didn't mind. It made me feel part of things again.

* * *

As I turned round and walked towards the new load of sacks, I saw Tobias Green looking at me again. Thankfully, most of my co-workers had gotten over the initial shock of being teamed up with a minor celebrity, but he had never seemed to shake it. There was something strange about his gaze, something that I couldn't quite seem to pinpoint. It reminded me a little of the way some of the girls looked when I walked through town, or asked them a trivial question about where to get something. When I stopped by the pile of sacks he seemed to notice my noticing of him, and his cheeks flushed red.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked, a little confused. Tobias shook his head.

"No, nothing, sorry." He had short brown curls that fell down to just above his ears – for a second it reminded me of Blaine, but I pushed the thought aside rapidly and picked up one of the sacks, groaning as I did so.

* * *

As I continued my work I thought about the date, and how nearly four months had passed since my return to District 12. It all seemed so long ago now, the Games. Sometimes on television my face would pop up, something about a re-run of my Games, or reminding us all of the victory parade that was another mere two months away. Mother always quickly flicked the TV off whenever anything like this appeared, worried it would trigger something, but I was used to it now. The Games never truly left Panem – there was always something to remind you of it. As the sun lay low in the sky and I began to think about dinner – whether I would go home or spend the evening at Haymitch's and eat chicken off the bone, when suddenly I saw a figure approaching me.

"Sam." It was Mike. The sight of him surprised me. Obviously we had stayed friends, but I barely saw him – partly due to the fact that I preferred to be alone but also partly because of the history we now shared, because of Tina. It was strange to see him down this part of the District.

"Hi." I replied, dropping the bag I had been holding and not really knowing what to say. Mike had finished school now too – he was working at his dad's tailoring shop. I had been in there a couple of times to buy new belts and pants, as I wore through them easily now.

"Can I…talk to you for a second?" My eyes widened. What was this about?

"Uh, yeah, sure." Picking up the last bag of coal and throwing it into the truck I turned around to Tobias again, who seemed a little startled at the sudden attention.

"Are you ok to finish up here?" I asked.

"Er, yeah, of course." He stuttered in reply. I smiled in thanks, wiping my forehead with my grimy hands before pulling on my jacket and walking off with Mike.

* * *

Now that it was getting darker the wind had begun to pick up – you could tell winter was on its way. Mike pulled his jacket closer too, and we both shivered a little. We walked silently away from the mines, up the hills until finally we stopped by a old disused farmhouse. I didn't question why we were here or what we were doing, just sat down when my friend did and got ready to listen.

"How are you buddy?" He asked after what seemed like hours. I laughed.

"Do you really want to know?" Mike bowed his head. I could tell he was in deep thought, so decided to carry on talking.

"I have nightmares every night, I work all day to try and forget about everything that happened and sometimes I get uncontrollable bouts of rage that make me dangerous to my own family." This was the first time I had talked to anyone about this apart from Haymitch. I wasn't sure if Mike wanted to know, but I felt like it was possible he would understand.

"I guess winning isn't all it's cracked up to be then." He said after a while, placing his fingers together and resting them under his chin. I shook my head.

"Dying is the easy part. When you die you don't have to remember." Suddenly Mike turned towards me. I figured he had now reached the level of courage to begin what he wanted to say.

"I want you to tell me about Tina." He said, speaking plainly, like he had rehearsed this a thousand times. "Everything about what she was like before she…" He trailed off momentarily. "…Before she died." Wow. This was a step up. I had never known how deeply Mike had grieved – if it had mainly happened whilst I was still in the arena or if it was still fresh even now. I knew it would still be for me – it still was.

"Well I…" I began, not knowing if I could go through this. It had been hard for me to talk about Tina to complete strangers, let alone her grieving boyfriend. But then I saw the look on my friend's face and knew I had to continue. "I don't remember everything. It comes in stops and starts. But I'll try to." Mike nodded his head, and turned so he was sitting facing me. I closed my eyes and tried to collect together every thought about Tina I could remember, everything I wanted to.

"Well she was obviously very distressed – it took a long while to calm her down. There were times when I thought she might not even make it to the start of the Games. But we got through it." I realised how that might have sounded and paused. '_We_'. "She talked about you a lot. Often when she was out of control I would mention your name to calm her down – you kept her going." I opened my eyes a little to see Mike staring back, already seeming fragile. Well, at least he wasn't trying to punch me just yet. "But it was hard. She was constantly on the edge."

"Do you think she…wanted to die?"

"No. She didn't want to die. She had too much to live for. It wasn't about that. She just couldn't bear the thought of living if she had to kill people." I had never really thought this indepthly about Tina. Of course there was a part of me that blamed her for a lot of things – felt like she had taken the easy, selfish way out – that she could have killed me too. But the other part of me, missed her.

"I just don't understand why she couldn't try to stay _alive_, for _me,_ for her _family_."

"She did." I replied honestly. "She tried desperately. But she couldn't do it. Do you know what it feels like to know that you've killed someone? To look your family in the eye and know that you have done terrible things, that people have died because of you and people have died to protect-" Suddenly my words failed. The memories had all come rushing back. Tina, Rory, Marley everyone. And Blaine. Suddenly the aching in my gut began to grow stronger again, my throat closed up and I struggled to breathe. Mike sensed my distress but he was struggling too, his own breathing shallow and fast.

"I know how you feel, I know how you wish she were here and that there was something you should have done. I know how much it hurts and there's just no way to get around it. No way." Tears were falling from my eyes, suddenly Mike leant forward and we were hugging, hugging and crying together.

"I miss her." He sobbed, speaking into my shoulder. "I miss her so much."

"I do too." I replied. "I miss all of them." As the wind whirled around us I wondered if things were ever truly going to get back to normal. If Mike and I would become firm friends again, if I would be able to function normally in a society that I should have thrived in. The scary part was – I couldn't be sure.


	7. The Beginning Of The Victory Tour

**Chapter 7 - The Beginning Of The Victory Tour**

Two months passed. Gradually autumn turned to winter, the leaves spiralled off the trees and plants shrivelled away to nothing – soon the ground was covered with a blanket of snow and I knew what was coming. I knew who would very soon be knocking at my door.

* * *

I'd been in my room when it happened. A place I rarely ever went to, only to sleep. But I'd been practising my talent for Cinna. Suddenly there was the sound of cars outside, loud chatter. There had been a knock at my door and a voice I recognised. Effie.

* * *

"Sam!" The shout from my mother had drifted up the stairs and under the door. Hauling myself to my feet I had trotted down to the ground floor, stopping when I saw my old friend. Wow. She had glammed up for proceedings. Her hair was now a vivid shade of blue – something I wasn't sure was supposed to be a reference to my eyes or not. Her bright lipstick matched, making all her features pop out, and her teeth were pearly white as she beamed at me.

"Sam!" I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, if I should hug her or simply smile and wave from where I was standing. Effie held out her arms however and I realised the former was expected. Dropping down the last few stairs I walked over and felt myself being engulfed in what could only be described as a powder hug – it felt like she was barely touching me but I coughed and spluttered from all of the makeup and glitter.

"Sorry." Effie said apologetically as we pulled away, more to my mother than me. A small dusting of glitter and other things had begun to collect on the carpet around her – I didn't think mother minded.

"Well isn't this _exciting_? The Victory Parade around already!" Such enthusiasm was strange in this house – I had almost forgotten what it sounded like. But Effie was contagious – I found myself smiling already, even if it was at her expense. "We must get you prepared. Come in, come in!" Suddenly a flurry of people entered the house. Most of them I remembered from my prep team, all just as excited as Effie, and some were new – camera crews, lighting people, men dressed in black with headsets and charts. I was ushered upstairs, pressed down into a chair and immediately covered with a strange plastic sheet.

"My my!" One of the prep team said, almost in horror. "What _have_ you done to your hair?" Since the Games I'd not really done anything to my outward appearance – not wanting the attention caused by doing so anyway. My hair had been left to grow and now came down past my ears.

"We must get this sorted!" Scissors appeared out of nowhere and I began to see blonde bits of hair drifting slowly to the floor. Snip snip snip.

* * *

When the prep team were finished, a mirror was dragged in front of where I was sitting, and I had to say – I was shocked. My hair was much shorter now, but it looked good. _I _looked good.

"You are so handsome Sam." A woman with strange silver tattoos all round her eyes said – I think her name was Augustine. "It seems a shame to let it all go to waste." As I was lead down the stairs Mother gasped, holding her hand to her chest. Ironically, Effie did the same.

"You look wonderful!" She said, sounding like she meant it. I looked across at Mother and saw tears in her eyes, tears of happiness. Ushered into the dining room I saw another figure I recognised, standing perusing a rail of clothing that had somehow made it's way into the house without me even noticing. Cinna.

"_Sam_." He said, immediately turning around and smiling. This time I didn't have to wait for the cue to hug, throwing my arms around him. Although I now lived with my family again, this felt rather like a second homecoming – my additional family reunited with me once more.

"Wow, have you looked like this ever since you came home?" He asked, looking me up and down in approval. I laughed, shaking my head.

"No. The prep team just sorted me out. They said I looked awful." Cinna laughed back, the kind of laugh I hadn't heard in a while. A happy one.

"Well if you had I bet you would have had every girl in District 12 after you." He continued, beginning to return his attention to the clothes rail, before he suddenly seemed to remember something and added it on. "Or boy." My smile faltered. Boy? What did he mean?

"What do you-?" I was about to ask when Effie entered the room, more flurried instructions spilling from her mouth. I realised the time for trivial conversation was now over – it was business time.

* * *

Over the next few days I underwent a complete transformation. Not only was my physical appearance altered, but my mental one too. Gone were my long walks over the hills, my working down by the mines – I was surrounded constantly by people prepping me and moulding me for the press appearances that went with the Victory Parade. Our whole house was given a makeover – Mother, Stacey and Stevie too. I was surprised at how beautiful Stacey looked now that she had regained her previous figure again, how much she was growing into a mature young woman. It felt like I had missed all that. She loved the attention of the prep team, despite them being from the Capitol, engaging in lengthy conversations about hair and make up that I neither understood nor really cared about. This was how a victor was supposed to react. Embrace everything. Use it to rebuild and transform. I supposed it looked like I was improving – my family certainly seemed to think so and I saw Haymitch less and less, my penchant for alcohol almost eliminated. But I knew there were some things even the most magical of make up brushes couldn't fix.

* * *

On the third day we were to film. I was to display my talent, the thing I was supposed to have taken up ever since my victory, to pass the time when I was no longer working and needed to occupy my higher mind – but had actually only started learning a month or so ago. I had guessed the talent of being able to haul large sacks of coal into trucks wouldn't be considered appropriate, so had instead walked to the music shop that barely anybody bought from anymore and purchased an old, used guitar. It was harder than it looked to use, but I had grown to love it, and was actually quite a decent player. Stevie had begged me over and over again so sing songs to him so I had agreed – watching him dance excitedly around the room nowhere near the beat of the song, and Mother and Stacey sit on the couch bobbing their heads with pleasure. In a way it made me more human – so for once I was grateful for something the Capitol had devised.

* * *

"Ok, so you need to look smart." Effie said, bringing forward a finger to hook under my chin and push it up slightly. "Sit straight, shoulders back, _smile_." I flashed my cheesiest grin, making a few of the people around us laugh. Effie scowled but got the joke. I had been positioned in the living room, by the roaring fire that was constantly being stoked by random people that appeared out of nowhere, on a box of all things. Cinna had dressed me in a dark grey suit, but the arms were tighter than my normal clothes and it restricted my movement. It seemed ridiculous to film such an event in this overly staged way – it could hardly be considered _natural _that I would play my guitar by the fire in a _suit. _But Effie had told me not to argue. It would look good, she said.

* * *

Over in the corner Mother, Stacey and Stevie were being interviewed by another equally excited crew. They seemed happy, large smiles on their faces, talking animatedly about all the things that had happened in the past couple of days. Staring at Stacey I saw the way she spoke proudly, but curled her toes up in her shoes with nerves. Was this how Marley would have looked if she had been the winner? Would they have dressed her up too? What would her talent have been? What would Blaine's have been? The memory made my face turn white – for a second the people around me stopped, looking startled. Stacey's eyes turned to look at me, suddenly worried, and I saw in them the look Marley had given me, the look of trust and fear.

"I need, I need some air." I said, abruptly standing up and leaving before anyone could stop me. As I broke out into the cold windy air I realised a snowstorm was brewing – certainly not something the prep team would want me going out in with my attire. Standing by the door and taking a few deep breaths I knew I was trapped – between where I should be and where I deserved – the wild unpredictable wilderness.

"Are you…are you ok Mr Evans?" A small voice spoke out behind me, turning around I saw one of the men from the camera crew. He seemed young, perhaps in his mid twenties. But I was younger, much younger.

"Yes." I replied, sighing. "I just…needed a bit of a break." Allowing myself to be lead back in everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The prep team immediately rushed to my side, sorting out my hair and brushing off little bits of snow that had dared to creep onto my clothes. When I looked across at Stacey I saw her happy expression had dropped, mothers too. They were back to holding everything in, keeping me stable.

"Ok, let's move onto Sam's piece now, his song." Sitting down on the box again I tried to get myself back into the zone. So far I had done a great job of pretending I wasn't on the verge of a breakdown – surely I could get through this too. Obviously the previous few minutes hadn't helped, but I would forget about that. I would channel everything good in my head to make this few minutes the best I could.

"If you could look up at the camera here." Effie said, pointing to another man with a camera positioned right in my direction. "When we say action you just start playing the song. We'll do the intro for it all with you later." I nodded, showing I understood. Shifting so I was in the best position for playing I ran my fingers down the strings, trying to calm myself. I could do this…I could do this…

"Ready Sam? Three, two, one…action." I waited a couple of seconds for the camera to begin rolling. Then, I forced my best smile, and began to play.

* * *

"Aint no sunshine when she's gone…" It was a song I had played a lot – a song Father had used to sing to us as we fell asleep. I remembered it well and knew the lyrics wouldn't fail me on such an important occasion.

"It's not warm when she's away. Aint no sunshine when she's gone, and she's always gone too long, any time, she goes away…" The room around me was silent – I didn't look up from my strings, concentrating on the song, but knew every person in the room was watching me.

"Wonder this time where she's gone

Wonder if she's gone to stay

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And this house just ain't no home

Anytime she goes away…"

As the rest of the song progressed I found myself closing my eyes, not needing to look at the guitar anymore. I imagined I was sitting by a fire, not at home, but in the forest, with Blaine sitting next to me, smiling as I sang.

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

Only darkness every day.

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And this house just ain't no home

Anytime she goes away.

Anytime he goes, away…"

The final chord rang out and everything was silent. I opened my eyes, for a second wondering if they were waiting for the camera to stop filming, but when I looked out almost everybody in the room was crying. Effie was having to hold back sobs, Cinna was holding onto Mother's hand, and Stacey. Stacey was looking at me more strangely than I had ever seen.

"Well." Effie finally said after a while, breaking the silence. "That was, magnificent!" Suddenly the whole room burst into applause. Over the top, theatrical Capitol applause, the kind I was used to. I smiled, swinging my guitar onto my back and then walking over to where Mother stood.

"Did you like it?" I asked, knowing the song meant as much to her as it did to me.

"Yes." She replied, nodding her head and squeezing my hand. "I liked it very much." As the rest of the crew began to resume their chatter, busying about setting up the next shot, which I would no doubt have to narrate, I saw Stacey still looking at me with that strange expression.

"What's up?" I asked, trying to put a playful big brother spin on my words but finding it only sounded false.

"That last line," she replied, speaking slowly, almost as if she were still processing it herself, "you said he instead of she." Had I? I hadn't even noticed.

"Really?" I replied, trying to shrug it off, but knowing deep down why I had said it. Whom I was referring to. Stacey continued to stare at me, her gaze holding me for so long that I eventually gave up and turned back to the mêlée of my prep team.


	8. The Visiting Of The Districts

**Chapter 8 - The Visiting Of The Districts**

When the filming was done, that was it. The tour had begun and it was time to leave District 12. Time to embark on what could only be described as hell revisited 13 times over. 13 times that I would have to smile, wave and face the families of the people I had killed, except in the Capitol, where they would just celebrate it. My team packed everything up, me included. I said goodbye to my family, our ground keeper, Mike. Surprisingly, just as I went to get into the car that would take me to the station Tobias Green appeared. He looked a little like he'd been running – his face flushed and his hair sticking up all over the place. I was a little surprised at his showing, especially when he gripped hold of my wrist, first firmly, then relaxing it a little bit.

"When you…when you get back…" he said, stumbling over his words, making me wonder what on earth was going on, "would you…like to hang out some time?" My eyebrows furrowed together. What did he mean? We hung out all the time, working of course, but still. He saw me pretty much every day.

"Um…" I said, not really knowing how to respond. The feeling of Tobias' hand on mine set me off edge – it reminded me of too many experiences I had had with Blaine, the emotions I had felt because of them. The dark haired boy's face fell and I immediately sensed he felt rejection.

"Ok." The words blurted out of my mouth before I even knew I had said them. Tobias faltered, unsure if I had spoken them too. "Ok, I will." A smile spread across my friend's face, a smile I had only seen on one other person. Then, I was ushered away, pushed into the car and left to watch his figure disappearing into the distance, hand still slightly raised into the air.

* * *

As the familiar click of the train filled my ears I sat on the plush resting carriage couch and thought about what had happened. Had Tobias asked me out? It wasn't anything I had ever thought about – to be honest since Blaine I had never thought about feeling that way about a person ever again. I wasn't sure if I even could. The part of my brain that controlled love was small to begin with, reserved only for my family – and even then it had been damaged by the Games. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever love at all, the way people said you should.

* * *

Haymitch entered the carriage. He had been forced to sober up a little by Effie for the tour, as he would have to make a lot of public appearances too, but even so he still carried a bottle with him wherever he went. I didn't change my position upon his arrival – to each other we were pretty much like furniture – comfortable, and just around. He came to sit down beside me and offered me a drink, but I declined.

"You might wanna start early." He said, the faint sound of a slur in his voice. "This isn't going to be pretty." He was right. The first District was District 11 – the home of Rory and Marley. I would have to stare into the faces of the youngest tributes of the 74th Hunger Games – tributes whose deaths had very much involved me. Then, as if it didn't get any better than that – after that was District 10. Santana and Finn. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the pain and realisation, and when I opened them again decided to ask another probing question.

"When you got back, from your Games, did you get a lot of attention?"

"What do you mean?" Haymitch asked. I ran my hands through my hair, looking down at the floor nervously.

"Y'know…from girls and stuff." My mentor laughed.

"Of course. It kind of comes with the title." I could imagine in his prime Haymitch would have been a great catch. He had won at 16 – just one year younger than me. Girls would have been flocking all over him.

"But, you didn't…?"

"No. I had Ophelia…" The mention of a familiar girl's name brought my mentor to a stop. The hitch in his throat told me this was his girlfriend – the one that had been killed along with every other member of his family. I guessed after that not many people had wanted to socialise with a manic-depressive. Seeing him take another long swig from his bottle, I felt a little bad for bringing up such a sore subject. But Haymitch was the one person I _could_ talk to about these things – he was the one person who could truly understand.

"What about you? Did you get anything?" He asked after a couple of seconds.

"Just one." I murmured in reply. The revelation seemed to surprise him.

"Oh really? What was her name?"

"_She_ was a _he_." The bottle parted from Haymitch's lips. He seemed to pause, as if I was going to elaborate, but when I didn't simply carried on drinking. I guess it wasn't anything overly unusual – I had made my affections to Blaine very clear – maybe that _was_ the way I fell now. But I just didn't know.

The train bumped on, bringing us closer and closer to the first stop of our tour – District 11.

* * *

The square was massive.

I could see it from the small windows in the building I was currently residing in, waiting to go out onto the stage and make my address. It seemed twice the size of the District 12 one, and even then I imagined it would struggle to fit even a small portion of the total population, judging by the expanse of country we had crossed to get here. Effie had briefed me on what my duties would be – walk on stage, wave a bit, wait for the Mayor to talk a little about me and then read my already decided and rehearsed speech the Capitol had provided for me. I was also allowed to make a short address to the families of Rory and Marley, as I had shared a personal connection with their children, although this scared me the most. I had no idea what to say. What _could_ I say? 'Sorry your children are dead – I have nightmares about them if it helps'. It seemed stupid, but I couldn't leave the district without at least showing them a little of my gratitude. And getting closure.

"Are you ready?" Haymitch asked, suddenly appearing by my side. Gone was the stench of alcohol – he actually seemed serious for once. I nodded once, more in acceptance of his words than actually showing I was ok. He nodded, back, patting me lightly on the shoulder before turning to Effie.

"He's set." Lead to a large doorway I heard the Mayor talking, saying my name. Then the doors opened and I was face to face with District 11.

* * *

The first thing that hit me was how many people had gathered. Twice, three times the number that had greeted me in my home district. About two thirds of the average Capitol crowd. All of them were dressed plainly – this not really as much of an occasion for celebration as our leaders liked to think. The realisation that every eye was on me disconcerted me – for a second I had no idea how to react. Did I smile? Did I wave? Did I stand still out of respect? I settled instead for looking at myself on the screen. It was funny – I didn't seem like a 17-year-old boy. The person I saw looked like a man – a man with a set face, smart clothes that seemed to age him further, eyes that looked like they had seen things that nobody should see. I wasn't a child anymore. Suddenly I realised the Mayor was speaking – he addressed the crowd outlining the brief details of my win, how I had allied with the District 11 tributes until their unfortunate deaths. My eyes flicked down to the slightly smaller stage that had been erected in front of my grander one – sitting on it on either side the two families of the dead tributes. Rory's family were easy to pick out – I could see his younger brother Seamus, sitting silently holding his mother's hand. They also had a baby, wrapped up in black cloth upon her lap. Marley's family seemed to have only her parents and grandma – I had taken their only child. I stared down at the families, wondering what on earth they could be thinking right now – how Mother, Stevie and Stacey would have looked in a similar situation, when suddenly I heard the Mayor clear his throat.

"Sam, would you like to say a few words?" Snapping back to reality I nodded my head, walking slowly over to the microphone. My footsteps echoed on the stage – my shoes shiny and obnoxious.

"District 11." I said, the cards in front of my on the desk, but the words etched in my memory anyway. "I thank you for your kind hospitality and congratulate you on all you have done to prosper. Whilst it saddens me that my 23 other tributes cannot join me on this stage, their deaths were not in vain. The loyalty of the Districts is what brings us all together, and you have been a part of this unity. With the many games to come we will continue this tradition, but also remember the people whose lives were lost." _People_. These were not _people_ that died. They were _children_. The speech still made me feel sick every time I said it – the thought that someone had decided this would somehow _calm_ the districts – make up for the horrors they had had to witness – was ridiculous. But I had no choice. I had to say it. After I had finished there was silence. There was no reason for anybody in District 11 to respond to what I had just said, so they didn't. Just like their tributes, they were dead. I looked across at the Mayor, wondering if I should just move straight onto talking about Rory and Marley or whether he would have to introduce it, but then suddenly behind me I saw their faces appear on the screen.

* * *

It felt like a blow to my gut. Several people in the audience gasped, from my reaction or just the sight of their faces again I didn't know. For a second I didn't think I could stand anymore, let alone talk.

"District 11." I suddenly started again, my courage dragging itself up and forcing me to carry on, to get out the words I knew they actually wanted to hear. "I know nothing I can say will ever really matter. That is will not bring back the lives of these two children that were tragically cut short." My hand raised to point up at the screen – I forced myself to stay staring straight forward but ended up looking back at the families, their eyes filled with tears. "When I met Rory and Marley I saw them not as my competitors, but my friends. To me they were like a younger brother and sister. My family." The crowd had fallen silent again, listening to my every word. "I tried so hard to protect them, for my sake as well as theirs, but unfortunately I failed. Rory may have died, but he died as one of the bravest men I have ever met. And Marley…" I began to feel my voice stutter, the guilt, horror and despair overtaking me. "I will never forgive myself for Marley. I miss her every day." Marley's mother bit her lip, trying to stop the sobs that were threatening to come out. "Thank you District 11, for making me human when I could not, for believing in me when I was sure you shouldn't. You should be proud – of your tributes and yourselves." Suddenly something happened. One of the people in the crowd, a man I neither recognised nor had any connection to the tribute families, raised three fingers to his mouth, kissed them, and raised them in the air. Gradually the people around him did the same, until the whole square was united. It was the gesture I had made to the cameras, when I had made the flowers, for Marley and the others. We stood together.

Now biting my own lip I turned around, nodding to Haymitch to show I was ready to leave. He muttered a few things to some guards and they came on to lead me away, hands hovering by my arms as if they expected to have to grab hold of me at any moment. When the doors closed behind me and my prep team surrounded me again I expected to collapse, for the pain and horror to close in again. But to my surprise, I simply felt nothing.

"Let's get out of here." Haymitch murmured, something I normally would have agreed with. But I found myself holding up my hand.

"Wait." I said, causing everyone to stop. "There's one thing I want to do."

* * *

Despite the stark contrast in weather to District 12, the wind had picked up considerably in the open space, stinging against my face so I had to pull my cloak in tighter to stay warm. The graveyard was pretty much deserted – an old site, very much in need of repair. The only sign that someone had been here in the past ten years was the two freshly dug graves, the soil a deeper brown than the other ones around it. I walked over to them, carefully stepping around headstones, over bouquets of flowers that had wilted and flaked away with time, and stopped just at the edge. I read the names on the headstones. Marley Rose, Rory Flanagan. Dropping to my knees I took a handful of the fresh soil, bringing it to my nose and smelling it. There was no trace of them there – that lay deep down underground, inside the wooden boxes they had returned to their district in. Suddenly I felt the soil begin to stick to my fingers and realised I was wetting it, tears streaming down my face. I let it fall to the floor and then bent down, pressing my face into the dirt and sobbing.

"I'm sorry." I murmured, too quietly for anyone else around me to hear. "I'm so sorry."


	9. The Home Of A Loved One

**Chapter 9 - The Home Of A Loved One**

The next few districts passed swiftly. Finn and Santana's parents were slightly easier to brave than Rory and Marley's – I talked about how in only a short time they had shown me what it was to be fearless and able to sacrifice yourself for another. District 9 had required I talk a little about Joe, but there wasn't really much to say – both their tributes had died within the first few minutes of the Games.

* * *

District 8 proved extremely tough. This was the district of Kurt. Both tributes in fact had been completely hacked to death – one by Quinn, one by me. It was impossible for me to even begin to explain myself – to try and make up for what I had done. I knew Kurt's parents would never forgive me, just as I would never forgive myself. But I hoped my words would at least have some impact. That's all they were – words. I chose not to visit his grave – partly out of respect to his family but also because I knew if I did see it the memories would haunt me for the rest of eternity.

* * *

Districts 7, 6 and 5 were gone in a blur – as I got closer to the Capitol I began to realise that another aspect to my win was beginning to have an affect on each district's opinion of me. District 4 – whose tributes I had no real personal connection with other than a few barbed words in training – eyed me like a criminal. Because of Blaine. He had murdered their tributes, and I had sided with him. That made me the enemy.

* * *

I hadn't expected such hostility from them – District 2 however was another matter. Puck's brothers looked like pure replicas of him – strong and deadly. They stared at me like they wanted to kill me, but to my surprise I stared back, unafraid. Quinn's parents sat together, crying haughty tears but still looking like they thought they were better than everyone else, better than me. I wanted to tell them all, tell both sets of families and the entire District, that if I had the chance I would see both of their tributes die again, this time by my hand. But I didn't think that would curry much favour from anyone, let alone the Capitol. As I got back into the train Haymitch saw my clenched hands and sighed in understanding.

"It's a good thing you didn't kill them." He said. I shook my head, gritting my teeth together and trying to calm the anger inside of me.

"No it's not. I wanted to."

"If you had they would have somebody to blame. Now they only have themselves." As he walked off, leaving me alone in the corridor, I realised with a sad exhalation of breath, that he was right.

* * *

**District 1.**

I had dreaded this day ever since I had been taken up in that hovercraft. Thought about it sitting on top of hills, thrashed around in my bed dreaming about it at night. Today was the day I entered Blaine's home District, the District he had pretty much abandoned to protect and save me. Today I met his parents.

* * *

Effie had to call for me more than three times before I arose from my bed in the morning. The first few I had pretended to not hear, but by the fifth she had realised my game and came right up to my bed, tapping on my bedside table with her long painted fingernails.

"Come on Sam! We're going to be late!" I rolled over, groaning and not wanting to get up. Maybe if I feigned some kind of illness I wouldn't have to go through this. Surely District 1 would not want a commoner disease infecting them.

"_Sam_." Now feeling her tug on my bed sheets I knew I had to follow orders. Effie looked away as I stood up, even though I was still wearing the pyjama bottoms that had been provided for me. As I stepped into the shower I turned up the temperature up as high as it would go, trying to burn away the pain that was already beginning to build inside of me. How could I do it? How could I look up at that screen and see his face? Know he had died for me? Feeling the shower suddenly jolt to a stop I realised the water had been turned off. My voice shouted out in annoyance and I bashed the doors of the cubicle with my hands, stepping out and over to the sink to wash the residual suds out of my hair.

* * *

When I made it to breakfast Effie and Haymitch were already waiting for me. Jeez, if Haymitch was here first I really had been slow.

"How was your shower?" Haymitch asked, grinning wickedly. I guessed he had been the idiot that had turned off the power.

"Awful. No thanks to you." Flopping down in my chair I grabbed a piece of toast and chewed on it sulkily, before realising I didn't really want to eat.

"No." I had been about to put the half eaten piece of bread back with the others, figuring I was the victor and could do whatever I liked, but Effie's hand suddenly shot out, her voice scolding me like a schoolteacher. For a second I stared back at her, shocked. Then she continued.

"Once you have picked something out, you have to eat it." I had been expecting some remark about how I had to eat, and 'oh I know how hard it must be but we can't have you collapsing on the stage in front of all those people'. But that response… I couldn't argue with it. Shoving the final half of the toast in my mouth whole I forced myself to chew and swallow, the room silent until every last crumb of it was gone.

"Would you like any more?" Effie asked, a little optimistically.

"No." I replied swiftly, before getting up and heading over to the wardrobe cart.

* * *

Cinna had prepared a special suit for this parade. When I saw it I almost cried out in pain, but managed to hold my emotions in. It was blue. A light, airy shade of blue – the colour of forget-me-nots. The same colour mother compared to the colour of my eyes, the same colour Blaine had been thinking of in the woods before we found the Versipellis bush. This colour _reeked_ of him. I'd never realised it before, maybe because I hadn't been anywhere where the sight of such a flower was possible, but now I knew I never wanted to see it again.

My anguished expression hadn't been what Cinna was expecting – he looked concerned.

"Do you not like it? I thought it was a fitting tribute, to him."

"That's the problem." I said back, struggling to even get my words out. "It _is_ him." Beginning to push away the suit my stylist looked a little panicked, probably trying to work out which new outfit he could cobble together in time for the ceremony. But I held out my hand to stop him.

"No. I'll wear it." He seemed puzzled.

"You will?" I deserved this pain, I deserved to be reminded of Blaine as I spoke out about him to his District.

"For him."

* * *

As we drove through the streets towards the main square, something seemed odd. Of course the buildings we passed were magnificent – far more grand than anything we could ever dream of in District 12. The Mayors house back home probably wouldn't even be fit for the lowliest of servants here. But there was something wrong – the odd shot of decay, of destruction.

"What happened here?" I asked. I had turned to the nearest person to me, which happened to be Haymitch. He squirmed in his seat, looking over to Effie for help.

"Nothing Sam." She replied plainly. "Nothing that concerns you." For a second I almost believed her. But then I saw another broken window and knew it was something more.

"Something _did_ happen here. Was it after the Games?" Nobody spoke. Now I was convinced something was being hidden from me – something about Blaine.

"TELL ME!" The shout made everybody jump – our driver veered off course and had to frantically turn the wheel to get us back in the middle of the road.

"Sam, it's right before your address, surely you want to wait until-"

"-Just tell him." Haymitch said, interrupting our blue haired friend. I stared back at her, already feeling betrayed that something this big had been kept from me for so long. Finally she took a deep breath and spoke again.

"When the Games finished, obviously there was a lot of controversy in District 1. With two tributes in the final three, they had clearly expected to have a good chance of winning. But then…" Blaine had killed Rachel. Then he had killed himself.

"Blaine had already caused scandal by defecting from the Careers." Haymitch continued, leaning over, as if he was subtly trying to block me from the rest of our crew. "That was the final straw."

"What happened?" I asked. From what I had seen on the streets already, I guessed it wasn't good.

"Riots." Haymitch replied. "Blaine's parents were brought to the courts, they were blamed. But nothing came of it."

"Nothing? why?" I waited for my answer, and was about to get it when suddenly we pulled up by the square.

"Come on Sam, quick quick!" Effie said, immediately pushing me out of the car. I turned to Haymitch pleadingly, wanting the final part of the story before I faced the hundreds of people that hated me. He shook his head.

* * *

It was the same format. Introduction, entry, Mayor, speech. I had done it a thousand times and this would be the last. With of course the extra torture of my personal section about Blaine. As I stood behind the large doors, Effie beside me quietly counting down the seconds before I would be revealed, I tried to figure out what I would say. What could you say, about the person who had risked everything to save you? Who had shown you love that you weren't even sure you could reciprocate, if you were _capable_ of reciprocating? I wasn't going to go into the ethics of our relationship right now, but it was still there in my mind. Blaine had _loved_ me. Had I loved him?

"Stand up straight, speak clearly, don't look anyone in the eye unless you're talking directly to them." A rush of whispered instructions were given to me as the Mayor began his opening introduction. Normally Effie didn't bother giving me these anymore, but she knew this time was different. She knew she had to distract me. I looked over to give her a small smile, a smile that showed I understood, a thank you, when suddenly the doors opened.

* * *

Crap. I hadn't been ready. Suddenly the faces of hundreds of District 1 people were staring at me, completely motionless. And I had been _smiling_.

"Sam Evans!" The Mayor repeated again, as if he thought I hadn't heard him the first time. Slowly I stepped forward, climbing the shallow steps to the main stage and looking around at the square. It was majestic. Nothing inside here had been harmed in the riots – it was like stepping into some kind of palace. Jewels of every kind lay encrusted into the stonework – the dim sunlight reflected off them and radiated patterns onto the marble floor. It was beautiful. As I cast my eyes over the rest of the square I saw the vast amount of people, the way they stretched back until I had to squint to pick out the final few. The high walls of the square enclosed them – I had no way of telling how much further the district stretched out, or if there were other screen elsewhere for the rest of the population to watch. Raised up on a higher platform, but still lower than my main stage, were the families. Rachel's parents could be picked out by their slightly more olive skin – both were dressed in the most extravagant mourning costumes I had ever seen. Totally black, but with a shimmering of tiny diamonds covering the veil, Mrs Berry looked like a bride who had gone astray. Blaine's mother looked very much the same. I recognised her instantly – her face familiar to me from when I had seen it on the screens in the video cave. Back then she had been screaming at her son to kill me – had she done the same thing in the final few seconds of the Games? How had she felt when he had disobeyed her a second time? For a brief second out eyes connected – a jolt of intense pain shot through me and I almost jerked backwards because of it, but thankfully managed to hold myself together.

* * *

"Sam, would you like to make your address?" The Mayor was having to coach me considerably – he probably thought I was an idiot. Or perhaps he knew of the significance of this trip, of how it was killing me inside to even be here, let alone talk about it. I walked up to the podium, retrieving my cue cards from my pocket and placing them by the microphone.

"District 1." I remembered to change the number, something I had almost forgotten in District 7. "I thank you for your kind hospitality and congratulate you on all you have done to prosper. Whilst it saddens me that my 23 other tributes cannot join me on this stage, their deaths…" This was wrong. This speech didn't refer to Blaine. I wasn't just sad he wasn't here – I was devastated. Unable to truly function properly, to live. As I faltered on my words several people behind me began to look around, worry. I glanced up at the crowd and saw their unforgiving stares. They _wanted_ me to mess up. They wanted me to _hurt_.

"...Their deaths were not in vain." A sigh of relief rushed through the Mayor's lips. "The loyalty of the Districts is what brings us all together, and you have been a part of this unity. With the many games to come we will continue this tradition, but also remember the people whose lives were lost." Done. I smacked the cards down on the podium, probably not the best thing to do, but I felt relieved. The first part of my ordeal was over. As the crowd stared silently on, the Mayor stepped forward again, a small sheen of sweat covering his brow.

"Sam, would you like to make any personal addresses to any of the families here?" This was the crunch. This was the only part of my trip that really mattered, the part where I said goodbye to Blaine forever. I nodded my head, stepping further forward towards the lower platform, readying my voice for what I was about to say. Then suddenly, someone called out.

* * *

"We don't wanna hear it!" The words shocked me. For a second I froze, unable to work out if what I had heard was real or not. The voice had come from the centre of the crowd – from the people turning round I worked out it was a short, middle aged man. I didn't recognise him.

"I…" My lips went to speak again, but this time somebody else cut me off.

"Yeah! Shut up and clear off!" Another voice, this time from the left hand side of the crowd, called out. Several members of the audience chuckled, my crew behind me exchanged worried and fiercely whispered conversations. For a second I wondered whether I should turn around, try and ask the Mayor for help. But then I realised that would only make the situation worse. If I was being _heckled_, I would have to stand up to it.

"I'm sorry, but I think Blaine's family have a right to hear this." Speaking out without a microphone, I stepped forward onto the lower stage. Blaine's mother had frozen, her eyes fixed on mine. I could see she was drained, but her husband gripped tightly onto her hand, holding her still.

"Mr and Mrs Anderson." I began, speaking directly to them, tapering my voice so only they could hear. "There are no real words I an say to express how sorry I am. Your son…"

"Their _son_? Blaine isn't one of us anymore!" Suddenly another voice shouted out. I looked over to see another man standing right near the platform, obviously an Anderson relative that hadn't been invited up with the parents.

"What?" I replied, breaking my cover.

"He lost the right to the Anderson name when he left that Career base! He lost the right to be from District 1!" I didn't understand. Had District 1 disowned Blaine? I understood he had betrayed them – that what he had done, in their eyes, was unforgivable. But his parents…

"Blaine never meant to cause you any harm." I said, turning my attention back to the couple. Mrs Anderson looked even more distressed than she had previously – Mr Anderson had his face set like he wanted to kill me. "He was only doing what he thought was right. What he knew he had to do."

"Like killing himself for your mongrel ass?" Another crowd member called out. I had expected the public of District 1 to be more civilised – I was being treated like a prisoner.

"Blaine would have died protecting anyone!" I shouted back. "He was honourable and true and he knew how to love!"

"He betrayed us!" Suddenly Blaine's father spoke. His voice shocked me – it was almost the same as Blaine's. But over time it had hardened, become more harsh, cruel. His grip on his wife's hand had become even tighter – I was beginning to wonder if I should alert someone. "He betrayed this family and he betrayed this district! _He is better off dead_."

* * *

My heart dropped.

"No..." Several people around me began to laugh. They saw my distress, saw the emotions as they flashed across my face. And laughed.

"No!" I repeated, shaking my head. This couldn't be happening, Blaine couldn't have been disowned. After all he had been through, all he had sacrificed. Would his parents not even _remember_ him?

"Sam." Abruptly I heard a voice behind me – it was Haymitch. He sounded concerned, and he should have been. I was self-destructing. "Sam it's time to go."

"NO!" I screamed, catching some people off guard. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS! BLAINE DESERVES TO BE REMEMBERED!"

"He deserves to rot!" Someone shouted back. As I felt myself being dragged backwards my eyes fixed on Blaine's mother – seeing the desperation in her eyes. She understood me, she mourned her son just as much as I did. But she had been forced to abandon him. That was why the Andersons hadn't been slandered in court. They had cut off the rotten part of their family. They had left Blaine to decay in the sewers.

"NO! I WON'T LET YOU! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" I was beginning to reach the edge of the stage, my feet clunking against the side as I fought to stay where I was, to stand up for the one person that couldn't right now. I could feel my strength fading and was about to let go when suddenly someone shouted out a word I had never heard said to me before.

"Fag!"

It was the momentary pause the guards needed. Yanking me up the step I was dragged through the doors and away from the square, the word of the solitary man ringing in my ears.

* * *

When the large metal doors closed I was immediately descended upon. I had expected people to be upset with me, to scold me for making a scene. To my surprise nothing came. Everybody agreed with me. Everybody knew what District 1 was doing was wrong.

"Sam, we need to get out of here." Haymitch said, immediately springing into action. I could hear sounds behind the doors and figured a commotion was starting, that if we didn't move soon we would all probably be caught up in it.

"Ok." I said, catching my mentor by surprise. "But I have to go and visit him first." Faces around me suddenly fell.

"We can't." Haymitch replied. "There's not enough time." For a second I paused. This had to be some kind of joke – there was no way anyone would prevent me from seeing Blaine's grave. District 1 people could try and tear me limb from limb and I would still claw my way there.

"Yes there is." I stated back, through gritted teeth. "_I'm going_."

"Sam, there are people out there baying for your blood. _We have to go_." As my mentor gripped hold of my arm, meaning to lead me off towards the car I suddenly found myself flipping him round, twisting his arm so it was forced behind his back. Haymitch squawked out in pain but I ignored him, my jaw set.

"Sam!" Effie exclaimed, sounding distressed.

"You will take me out of this building and to his grave." I hissed, my hand twisting his arm further so his eyes scrunched up and he tried not to give in. "Or I will _rip your arm off_ and feed it to those mutts out there."

"Sam!" Effie screamed again. "Sam let him go!"

"Do you hear me?" I asked, almost spitting into Haymitch's ear. "DO YOU HEAR ME?"

* * *

"There is no grave Sam!" Suddenly I stopped dead. My hand let go of Haymitch's arm, sending him tumbling to the floor where two guards immediately came to his aid. Spinning round I saw Effie almost on the verge of tears, her whole body shaking. I had never seen her like this. Ever.

"What?" Suddenly I knew what was coming. All the pieces fitted together but I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to know it was true.

"They destroyed Blaine's coffin when it got here." Effie continued, almost sobbing. "Smashed it to pieces and burnt it on a bonfire. There is no grave and there never will be."


	10. The Return Of The Capitol Crowds

Back on the train I found myself closing my eyes for the umpteenth time. Most people believed when you closed your eyes that everything could be blocked out, that the darkness took over and you saw nothing – were completely alone. But I wasn't. When I closed my eyes I saw them all – Rory, Marley, Puck, Quinn, Rachel, Santana, Finn and Blaine – everyone that had died because of me. I saw them happy, I saw them crying, I saw them bleeding. But I saw them all dead. People closed their eyes to escape – I could never escape. In the darkness I saw my past, in the light I saw the horrors of the future.

* * *

Haymitch had not come to see me since our departure from District 1. I was not surprised – this was the second time I had physically attacked him. It was sickening to remember how violent I was, how easily my bouts of rage could be brought on and what could be done with them. I had to capacity to kill – I had more than enough of it. But thankfully so far I had chosen to use it only once. It was only a matter of time though. Only a matter of time before I attacked my mentor for the last time, and he left me either in a train or a coffin.

The wheels of the train clunked along the track – we were headed to the Capitol now. At least here I was guaranteed a good reception – here I was still their shining hero, nothing known about District 1 and all the things Blaine had caused. The word of the man in the crowd as I had been pulled away still rang in my head. _Fag_. What did that mean? Was that how I was perceived? District 1 were not known for their tolerance – I was pretty sure the reasoning for their disowning of Blaine was as much for his love for me as the betrayal of his district – but even so. _I_ wasn't even sure how I felt. And now I was being branded a _fag_? It didn't make any sense, but now nothing really did.

* * *

Suddenly the sound of the door to my room opening made me jerk to life. I lifted my whole body up in one swooping motion, sitting bolt upright so Effie looked a little startled. I didn't know whom I'd been expecting, but for some reason I was a little disappointed.

"Sam." She said. The realisation that her voice had lost its chirpy tone – that I had now done something to break that unbreakable persona – made my heart ache.

"Effie." I replied. My body felt weary from the struggling I'd done, so I lifted my arms over my head and stretched, holding them there for a good couple of seconds. Effie stayed silent by the door and I wondered if she were deciding whether or not to come fully in.

"How is Haymitch?" I asked, once enough time had passed for me to realise she wasn't going to say anything. A flash of emotion darted across Effie's face but she concealed it quickly, something I wondered if she did a lot of.

"He is recovering. Luckily you didn't break any bones, but there is a lot of bruising. It's handy our next stop is the Capitol – they will be able to work wonders." I scoffed, realising this looked like I didn't care, but actually referring to the way the Capitol seemed to _fix_ everything. The best fixers were good at their jobs because they knew how to break it in the first place.

"How long till we get there?" I asked, continuing the conversation after another bout of silence. I could tell Effie thought my tone was unfeeling, that I didn't care, but that was what I was trying to do. _Not _feel.

"Another 6 or so hours. Dinner is at 6 o'clock." I nodded, ready to flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling until someone came to haul me into the shower, but then Effie said something that made me stop.

"I know things are hard…" She began, almost sounding cautious, like what she was about to say might set me off again "…and sometimes it gets too much. But you have got to remember that there are people relying on you Sam." I knew exactly what she meant. She meant Haymitch, she meant herself, she meant Cinna and the rest of my team and every person back in District 12. She meant my family.

"I know." I replied. I rubbed my face and felt how raw my skin was – all that crying ruining the hours of work my team had put in to make me look presentable.

"You have to get through this." Suddenly she delved into her pocket, bringing something out but keeping it enclosed in her hand. My senses immediately pricked.

"I don't know if this will help, but something was delivered just before you left District 1. A present from someone." I stood up, walking over slowly to where my friend stood. I could see her hands shaking and I knew she was worried that her frail little bones would break if I so much as even gripped onto her arm. But I looked instead at her hand.

"What is it?"

"You have to promise that you will keep it safe, that you won't do anything reckless because of it."

"I promise." Closing her eyes and slowly turning her wrist, the fingers on Effie's right hand uncurled to reveal my present on her palm.

Blaine's nametag.

* * *

Immediately I dropped to my knees. I held onto Effie's hand delicately, making her flinch slightly but then feeling her relax as she noticed my expression. My fingers moved to pluck the nametag from her, holding it lightly between my fingers as if I were scared it would suddenly crumble into a million pieces if I handled it too roughly. The fabric was rough against my skin. Blaine had told me about the nametags – given me Marley's, which I still had with me now. And now I had been given his.

"Was this from…?" I asked, trailing off. I knew Effie wouldn't be able to tell me – that the gift giver had already risked enough to get it this far. But I knew.

"Like I said, keep it safe." She said. I looked down at the stitching, now the only physical thing I had left of the person I had cared about more than anything, and brought it to my face, smelling it. There was no trace of him now, but I could sense it in the fabric – the memory of him. Closing my eyes I pressed the tag to my lips.

"Thank you." I murmured. Effie left the room without another word. For a good half hour or so I stayed on the floor in that same position, clutching the nametag in my hands and whispering things to it, things I could only tell Blaine. Then I crawled up onto my bed and curled into a ball, pressing it softly into my chest.

* * *

I was awoken to the expected shower, then the dinner, then the preparations. I was primped and prepped all through the early hours of the morning – my hair pulled and snipped, my collar straightened and my face covered in stifling makeup. Cinna had chosen a white suit for my grand reveal but now I was clothed in black – perhaps an acknowledgement to my mourning of the dead tributes, but more likely a representation of the coal from District 12.

"It has a surprise hidden inside." Cinna whispered, smiling as he drew away from my ear. I found the surprise when he turned off the main lights and put one solely on me. Sparkling jewels. I could have been a star in the sky I shone so brightly. I knew what it meant.

"Jewels. For District 1." I muttered under my breath.

"For Blaine." Cinna replied.

* * *

It was strange pulling up into the Capitol station. It had been strange returning home, but this… I had always had a faint hope of seeing my town square again. I had never once expected to re-visit the Capitol. It seemed like an alien land again, everything so rich and futuristic compared to the place I had spent the last six months. But then again, it also felt strangely like home. As soon as we stopped I saw the flash of cameras, the press already lined up outside, waiting to catch a glimpse of me. I was like a rock star to them. I was everything. Haymitch suddenly appeared by my side, right before I was about to be thrust out into the melee. For a second I was surprised, before I remembered he would have to be with me, as his victorious mentor. We exchanged a look that I couldn't work out was friendly or not, but he didn't try and strangle me. I could see the stiffness in his arm and guessed it probably hurt a lot. But the Capitol would deal with that.

"Ready?" Effie asked, also appearing next to me – her bubbly personality back with a vengeance, as if it had never been lost. I nodded my head.

"Ready."

* * *

The crowds were fierce. Even more fierce than before. It was as if my time away from the Capitol had only strengthened the love it's people held for me. I was adored – screamed at by girls, pawed at by hands of all different colours, some with claws, some with tattooed fingers and some with freakish fake nails that made me unsure of where the actual skin began. My guards immediately hustled me through the throngs of people and into the main building, before I realised I would be returning to the home building, where I had prepared for my Games. Haymitch followed behind me and when we were ushered into the lift I looked at him with a wide-eyed expression.

"Welcome home." He said, with chagrin.

* * *

The suite had not changed a bit. Even the smell was the same, as if it had been preserved. Nobody had touched the area since my interview before by journey back to District 12, so there was still the odd wire lying about. As I stepped over them to the living room, where the TV was on showing pictures and film of my arrival, I almost couldn't believe I was back. It was as if I had never left.

"Right Sam!" Effie said earnestly, rushing over and grasping hold of my shoulders. "We have lots to do, lots to prepare for!" I couldn't believe any more preparation was needed – the hours on the train had seemed like more than enough. But the Capitol never did things by halves. I could tell my friend was eager to get me moving, but I saw Haymitch out of the corner of my eye and looked back towards her.

"Could you just…give me a second?" I asked, as kindly as I could. Effie's eyes flicked to Haymitch, then back to me. She nodded.

"Ok. But not a minute more!" As she scuttled off to set up my prep team in another room I walked over to the centre of the living room, positioning myself next to one of the couches but not sitting down. Tina had sat here – her legs curled up into her chest and her face buried into them as she watched her performance in the reaping – as _we_ watched them. Here I had had my first glance of Blaine, started my intense hatred for him. I had used him as _target practice_. The memories were so fresh I could almost see them happening right in front of me.

"It's strange to come back, isn't it?" Suddenly Haymitch's voice sounded. He was behind me, but a few metres away, almost as if he were pretending I wasn't there. I nodded slowly.

"Yes." I wanted to turn my head around to look at him, but knew this would end the conversation. Instead I looked up at the screen, seeing my face in the flashing lights – the victor.

"How much do they show?" I was referring to the whole tour, wondering how much of the pain and ceremony the fancy Capitol people would have seen on their TV screens. Haymitch sighed before replying.

"Most of it. District 1 will have been cut after your first speech." Nobody here knew about the riots. Nobody knew that Blaine had been disowned. Nothing was ever going wrong in the Capitol.

"How's your arm?" I asked. Haymitch chuckled, obviously finding my question funny.

"I won a Hunger Games with twice as many tributes," he replied, almost scolding me, "I think I can handle a little bruising." Relief washed over me. Without Haymitch I wasn't sure how much further I would have gotten in this place – the fake celebrations overpowering me. But he was still there. I had been forgiven.

"I guess we're even now." I said, finally turning round to face my mentor. My arm rose up to point towards the door to the hidden room, the one we both knew all too well. Haymitch smiled.

"I guess we are."

* * *

We prepared for the grand feast. President Snow would host the party in his own house – it was said to be the event of the year. And I was the centrepiece. Cinna showed me my suit and I had to say it looked great. I wasn't just handsome. I was beautiful. As I admired myself in the mirror he tapped the side of my jacket and whispered in my ear again.

"Check the inside." My hands ran along the silk inner lining and caught on a secret pocket just by my heart. Feeling my body lurch I looked over and saw him smiling. He must know – Effie must have told him.

"Sssh." He mouthed, bringing his finger up to press against his lips. I nodded in thanks and pushed the nametag inside, closing my eyes as I felt it resting there against my beating heart.

* * *

We were all set at eight o'clock, the sky already dark outside, leaving only the lights of the city to guide us. Effie had pulled out all the stops with her outfit and was in danger of outshining me – Haymitch looked the same as he always did, but still with class.

"Let's do this." I said, managing a smile and straightening my posture to look commanding and proud. My team nodded their heads and then we were off.


	11. The Party Of The Year

**Chapter 11 - The Party Of The Year**

When they had said it was a party, they hadn't been wrong. Even before we reached the inside of the mansion I was hit with how extravagant everything was. Dancers were everywhere, twisting and turning their bodies into positions I didn't even think were possible. Huge fountains made of ice spurted water and amazing plants tumbled down from hangars to provide an almost jungle feel. As we walked forward I heard the hubbub of noise begin to grow, the announcement of my arrival reaching the honoured guests. Gradually more and more people appeared, some of them clapping, some of them cheering. I smiled and waved, knowing I was being filmed right now and this was being broadcast to thousands. Mother would be sitting watching this at home, with Stacey and Stevie. Mike was probably sitting with his family too – maybe even Tobias was.

* * *

As we approached the inside of the house I expected to be accosted by people. Instead I saw we had been brought onto a huge balcony – and that the room below was the banquet hall. Hundreds of people stood milling around, chatting, making jokes, sipping on strange looking drinks. When I reached the balcony rail suddenly all the noise was hushed – an announcer spoke through hidden speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen – the winner of the 74th Hunger Games – Sam Evans!" Everyone cheered. I realised I was supposed to respond so waved and saw the faces of my adoring fans staring up back at me. Suddenly the crown I had received in my last ceremony here was placed back on my head and a guard ushered me to some stairs. I walked slowly down them and felt like a king about to mingle with his subjects.

* * *

As soon as my feet touched the hall floor people immediately rushed up to speak to me. My guards that had appeared from nowhere pushed the majority of them away, but let a few come and greet me. I was peppered with kisses on my hands, forced to kiss the hands of swooning ladies, told over and over again how dashing I looked and how great it was that I had returned to the Capitol. Searching desperately with my eyes for Haymitch I saw him a few metres away with Effie. They followed me wherever I went, ready to step in if needed, but my bodyguards did all of the hard work. I was the star after all.

* * *

"You really should stay in the Capitol." One woman said to me as I leant against a marble statue. I had done it simply to keep balanced as the sheer volume of attention overwhelmed me, but someone had immediately rushed to take my picture and fawned over my genius, so I was now forced to stay there as some form of fashion statement. The woman had long green eyelashes that almost touched my own face and her lips were stained with the purple drink she was sipping. "There are so many more opportunities here. It can't be very lavish living in District 12."

"I like it there." I replied, trying not to sound offensive but also standing up for my home at the same time. "My family are with me."

"Oh yes." The woman replied, sighing dramatically. "Your _family_." She clutched her hand to her chest and I saw tears pooling in her eyes. "The dedication you have for them, it's just…it's just so…"

"_Romantic_." Another woman finished, eyeing me with dreamy eyes. I didn't see how loving my own flesh and blood could be seen as anything romantic, but I guess they thought it was sweet.

"Is there anything to eat?" I asked, wanting to move the conversation away from anything that might prompt someone to ask about my love life, or Blaine. The ladies looked astonished.

"Why of _course_!" The second lady replied. "Come right this way!"

* * *

I had never seen so much food. Tables upon tables of plates filled with the most delicious delicacies I had seen or smelt in my entire life. I had thought the table on my train was a masterpiece – well this was a gallery. I didn't know where to start, but was forced to begin with squid, as one of the ladies picked up a piece and shoved it into my mouth before I knew what she was doing.

"Do you like?" She asked with a smile. The taste exploded in my mouth and all at once I was transported into some kind of heaven. I had never tasted anything like it.

"Yes." I replied, almost too shocked to even reply. The ladies squealed and then one of them immediately rushed to grab hold of another morsel. I was about to hold my hand up to my mouth to avoid being force fed again, when suddenly Haymitch appeared beside me out of nowhere.

"I think that's quite enough of the feeding for now ladies." He said with what could only be described as a sarcastic smile. The women's faces fell – for a second I thought they were about to object, but instead they simply scowled at my mentor. I shrugged my shoulders, trying to look disappointed, but then broke into a snigger when they had shuffled far enough away to not hear.

"Thanks." I said, when Haymitch and I had stopped laughing. "I didn't know when I was going to get out of that one."

"Capitol women can be very…clingy." My mentor replied. I looked back at the food and began to feel my mouth water as I took it all in.

"Can you believe this?" I asked, holding out my arms in amazement. I knew I should be disgusted that so much excess was happening here when District 12 struggled not to starve, but it was so phenomenal I could only be amazed.

"President Snow likes to show off." Haymitch replied, before turning to a plate of duck and taking a huge handful, making me laugh as he shoved it into his mouth.

* * *

We ate and ate and ate. I didn't think my stomach could hold so much but every flavour was so new and intense I just had to try it. Eventually, when I felt like my stomach would burst if I so much as looked at another mouthful I lead Haymitch over towards the middle of the room.

"This is just…" I said, unable to express what I wanted to say. I hated everything about the Capitol – what is stood for, its people, their way of life and the things they were oblivious to. But I was enjoying myself. "I can see why so many victors choose to live here." Suddenly Haymitch's face darkened.

"I wouldn't be so sure." He replied. I went to ask him what he meant, when suddenly a hand tapped me lightly on the shoulder.

"Mr Evans." I turned around to see a man, probably in his early thirties – fairly good looking but with a decidable roundness to his belly. He seemed very pleased to see me so I smiled and shook his hand. Haymitch still had the guarded look on his face, but I figured it was still about our unfinished conversation, so ignored him.

"Cornelius Dengworth." The man continued, bowing his head as he spoke. "Would you like to dance?" Dance? Immediately I turned to Haymitch. He gave me a wide-eyed look that told me this was not the right thing to do, so I quickly returned my head and saw Cornelius staring back expectantly at me.

"Dance?" I repeated, still unsure if he was being serious. My stomach still felt incredibly full – I wasn't sure if it could take any vigorous movement.

"Yes." Cornelius replied, gesturing out to the dance floor. Several couples were already twirling themselves around gracefully, but I couldn't see any male-male partners.

"I…I couldn't possibly." I replied, trying to sound apologetic but not really enjoying the situation. Cornelius was looking at me in a way that I didn't really like. "I'm much too full from all the food."

"Well we can sort that out." Cornelius replied. He clapped his hands together and his servant immediately brought him a glass of a drink I had never seen before. "Here you go." I was handed the glass and saw the liquid letting off a strange kind of smoke. Something told me I didn't want to drink it.

"It's fine, I promise. Maybe later." I pushed the drink back towards him but he forced my hand to stay still.

"_I insist_." I didn't like this. Glancing over to Haymitch again I saw his face set in a stony expression. Was this what he had been trying to tell me?

"Cornelius, please-"

"-Just dance with the goddamn man." Suddenly Haymitch's voice barked out – I jumped and almost dropped the glass, but managed to keep the liquid inside. Grabbing the drink from me Haymitch stalked off and I was left with only my new companion. He smiled, holding out his hand again so I had no choice but to accept.

* * *

The dance floor was in the centre of the room so I could see the whole building from where I was standing. The balcony I had arrived on seemed incredibly high up, and the statue I had leant against so far away. I was surprised my legs were not tired from all the walking I must have done. Cornelius immediately took up and dancing position, grabbing hold of my hand and bringing it upwards, his other hand slipping round my waist. I had never been taught to dance so let my free hand hover in the air, no knowing what to do with it. As we began to move I felt Cornelius guiding me and realised he was obviously a professional.

"So…" He began, starting a conversation despite the speed we were moving. I tried to focus on one stable spot so my head would stop spinning. "How are you liking the party?"

"It's great." I replied, deciding to be honest. "Unlike anything I've ever been to before."

"I can imagine." Cornelius replied. "President Snow loves only the best. What a world away this must be from your _District 12_." The way he said the name of my home angered me. It sneered off his tongue, like it were a rodent or disease.

"It is quite different yes." I replied, trying to be diplomatic but shying away from his grip a little. Cornelius smiled, looking into my eyes suddenly.

"How one so beautiful as you could be hidden away for so long in a place like that I have no idea." He continued, scanning his eyes down to my body. I felt anxiety begin to creep up on me and turned my head to look for Haymitch. We were moving too fast for me to spot him. "The Games were obviously meant to set you free." _Set me free_? The Games had trapped me – into a life I did not want to lead but was forced to – my memories haunting me until the day I finally died.

"I wouldn't say this was freedom." I replied, again trying to stay calm but feeling my anger boil up inside of me. Cornelius looked surprised.

"This is what people _dream _of." He said, letting go of my hand to cast his arm out, returning it in an even more intimate grasp that made my skin crawl. "You can have anything you want here." He continued. "You can do _anything_." I didn't want to be here anymore. Cornelius unnerved me, and I was sure his intentions were not something I would agree with. I was about to bid him a polite farewell when suddenly he spoke again.

"You are very high in demand, Sam Evans." I made no reply, not understanding what he meant. "A very, _precious_ commodity." A finger suddenly ran down my cheek, slipping across my Adams apple to the beginning of my chest. "I would like to be the first to procure you."

* * *

Now I knew what he meant. Pulling away I looked at him in disgust, but saw frustration flash into his eyes.

"That is not what I came here for." I replied, all sense of politeness gone from me now. Cornelius sighed but still kept hold of me.

"I have plenty of money. I can give you anything you want – enough to feed that _precious family_ of yours for several years." This was ridiculous. Cornelius was trying to _buy_ me – perhaps for just one night. And it seemed like there were others who wanted to do the same.

"I can feed my own family, thank you." I replied again, beginning to feel my own anger, but also fear. Cornelius still had a firm grip on my hand and I was surprised at how forceful he was.

"Blaine is not here anymore – you cannot love him forever." Cornelius said with a smile, pulling me in closer again. "Love me instead."

* * *

Suddenly everything changed. In one swift movement I flipped Cornelius round, pulling his hands behind his back and crushing them with my fingers. Several people around me stopped and a few gasps rang out.

"Cornelius." I said, speaking spitefully into his ear, my fingers squeezing tighter so he whimpered. "I suggest you and your little friends stay the hell away from me, or I'll crush your fingers so hard you won't even be able to jerk yourself off. Ok?" Cornelius tried to reply but he was in so much pain he could only burble. "_OK_?" I squeezed his fingers again and he shouted out, making several more people turn around.

"Yes!" He said, sounding scared and also very embarrassed. "Yes I will now please let me go!" Releasing his hands I let him stumble forward, seeing the spit fly from his mouth as he gasped for breath. His servant immediately rushed to his aid but he pushed him away in an act of childish defiance.

"This is a mistake." He hissed, when he finally had his breath back and had turned around. "Nobody will want you now!" I smiled, taking a few steps forward so his cowering body was only a few inches away from me.

"_I don't want anybody_." Bringing my leg forward, I kneed him in the crotch. Cornelius tumbled to the floor and many people gasped, a couple of people cheered. I looked around for Haymitch but couldn't see him, so instead turned to one of my bodyguards nearby.

"I need some air."


	12. The Opportunity Of A Lifetime

_Hi guys!_

_I know it has been a loooong time since the last update. Basically my life/work has been so hectic I have barely had time to live my normal life, let alone write. It has been stressful but now it is drawing to a close and I have managed to start writing again. I have enough written to keep going until Wednesday, and then I finish work and will be free to write as much as I want! :D_

_This chapter will change everything... Read on!_

_Liz xxx_

* * *

**Chapter 12 - The Opportunity Of A Lifetime**

The Capitol air was warm. I was surprised – I had expected it to be cold outside with how wintry it had been at home. But I guess the crowdedness of the city made the temperature rise just that little bit. As I leant against the railings and looked out over the city my breathing was heavy. I had escaped from Cornelius and his disgusting proposal, but would that be the end? Was that what Haymitch had been warning me about? I knew the victors were adored by crowds, but were they _used_ by them? For sex? It seemed horrendous, but then again – if these people had nothing left to live for – why not? As I tried to calm down I wondered what would be happening right now. I imagined Cornelius would be complaining about me, spreading lies that I had come onto him. Or maybe his pride would keep his mouth shut. I didn't care either way. The Capitol couldn't punish me – I was their champion, their sweetheart. But they would find some other way to make me pay.

* * *

The guard beside me made a noise and I figured he wanted us to go back inside. All I wanted was some time alone, some time to recollect my thoughts and get through this. I had just been harassed – surely I was allowed some respite before it happened again?

"One second." I replied, my tone a little strained. If I was some object to be desired by Cornelius, how many other people felt this way? Was I simply a pretty boy to them? A young beauty waiting to be deflowered? Was this how Tobias viewed me at home? I couldn't imagine so, but then again, it was impossible to tell. So many lies had surrounded my life this past year that I wasn't sure what was real anymore and what was not. Eventually I nodded my head silently and the doors were opened back into the house. I imagined Effie would have something to say to me when I returned but actually looked forward to the conversation. It would provide some light entertainment.

* * *

As we walked through the long corridor I tried to imagine President Snow living here. He hadn't arrived yet so I figured he was waiting for some grand entrance. I was the star of the show but he was the host – he ran this whole world we lived in. I was wondering what his first words to me would be when suddenly a man with a black suit on stepped out of nowhere and almost walked into me.

* * *

"Ahh!" I exclaimed, being taken by surprise. My guard immediately sprang forward, holding a knife to the other man's throat, but he held up his hands and stepped backwards.

"Please! Do not attack! I am here for Sam!" My brow furrowed. Here for me? I didn't recognise the man – he wasn't in my team. Was this another Cornelius stunt?

"Do you know this man?" The guard barked. I was about to reply when the stranger interrupted, looking nervous.

"Haymitch! Sent me. He asked me to…come here." The response was dubious. But the mention of Haymitch triggered something in me.

"Haymitch?" As I met eyes with the man he seemed to send me a message, something in his gaze. _Trust me_. I knew this was dangerous, and I should not leave with this man without my guard, but I found myself slowly nodding my head.

"Ah yes, I remember." Turning to the guard I saw him looking at the man with stony, suspicious eyes. "It's ok. I know him. You can go back to the party."

"They said I should stay with you at all times." The guard replied, looking like he wasn't going to budge.

"Don't worry." I assured him, not really knowing where my aptitude for lying was coming from, but running with it. "Where we're going there are _hundreds_ of guard. I'll be fine." For a couple of seconds I thought it hadn't worked – that my convincing had not been enough. Then, to my amazement, the guard nodded.

"Ok. But of you are gone for more than half an hour we are coming to look for you." I nodded, turning to the man and hoping my sacrifice had been worth it. He smiled and then gestured to another corridor.

"Shall we?" I walked on and left my guard far behind.

* * *

As we walked down the corridor I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I was guessing this man had no connection to Haymitch, but for some reason I didn't think anything bad was going to happen. He looked like a scientist, a lab geek. I was pretty sure if I needed to I could knock him out in seconds. We twisted and turned, down avenues I didn't even know existed until they were right in front of me. Then suddenly we stopped by a wall.

"Did anyone follow you?" The man asked. I shook my head, turning round to check. There hadn't been another sound other than our footsteps for a while.

"Ok." Suddenly the man waved his arm in front of the wall and a secret panel lit up, filled with buttons. He typed in a code and a hidden door was revealed, Opening it, he turned and motioned for me to step inside.

* * *

We travelled down in the elevator for a good minute or so – I guessed we were going down into the basement. The space felt rather like the tube I had been transported up into the arena in – for a second my claustrophobia began to grow, but the man was close by and seemed to comfort me with his presence. When the elevator stopped I was taken into a small dimly lit room, with large windows looking into another dark room on the other side.

"What is going on?" I asked, figuring I should probably enquire about the situation now we had reached this point. I had still seen no other people and didn't think I was about to be attacked. The man took off his suit jacket and replaced it with a lab coat.

"I am Fritz Jergensteen. I work for President Snow." He said, addressing me plainly. I almost expected him to shake my hand, but he didn't. The room through the giant windows seemed to be housing something, but I couldn't make out the objects with my unaccustomed eyes.

"You are Sam Evans, winner of the 74th Hunger Games, yes?" I turned back to Fritz, surprised. Surely he knew who I was. He wouldn't have brought me all this way if he didn't. But I supposed he needed conformation.

"Yes." I replied, speaking almost as plainly. "I am."

"Then you have been brought here for a very special reason." Fritz snapped on some plastic gloves. He didn't offer me any, so figured what was in the other room would only be shown to me through the glass.

"23 deaths." My new companion continued. "You have witnessed them all. It must have been a very horrific sight." I was confused about this line of questioning. Surely if Fritz worked for President Snow he knew all about the barbarity of the Games. And why was this being done so secretly? I gathered nobody above ground at the party knew we were even here.

"It was." Fritz walked over, suddenly bringing out a stethoscope to measure my heart rate. It surprised me how calm I was, although I supposed I had dealt with fear so much now it had begun to make me immune.

"Do you miss them?" The question shocked me. I stepped backwards, causing Fritz to look up at me.

"Of course." I missed them every day.

"_All_ of them?" My shoulders sagged a little, realising my mistake.

"No. Only some."

"It is only natural." Fritz walked back over to his table and placed the stethoscope neatly back down on it. The clink of metal on metal rang through the room. "The human conscience builds relationships in different ways. You cannot love everyone." There were some tributes in my Games I didn't even remember. The District 6 tributes, they had died without a trace. The girl from District 3. I couldn't even picture their faces. But some…

"Why are you telling me this?" Fritz walked back over to me again. In his hand he held a control that I figured was for the lights in the other room.

"What if I were to tell you that President Snow has given you a great opportunity. A chance to undo some of the wrongs you feel you have made, but have no real way of repenting for?" A pain stabbed into my heart. There were so many things I had failed to do. I had failed Rory, Marley, Santana... And Blaine.

"What is this opportunity?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly from the exertion of keeping myself stable.

"You can bring a tribute back to life."

* * *

Suddenly the lights in the other room turned on. The murky objects I had seen became shelves, shelves with large metal boxes slotted inside them. This was a morgue.

My skin went cold. The bodies of the tributes were taken up by hovercraft mere minutes after they died. They were put into wooden boxes and sent back to their districts. They _couldn't_ be here.

"What is this?" I asked, not wanting to believe what was in front of me, what this meant.

"This is where the bodies of the tributes are kept, preserved_. All_ of them." Who had I mourned over in District 11? Whose bodies had been buried underneath that earth, who had Marley and Rory's parents wept over? Somebody else? The realisation made me feel sick. Pushing past Fritz I forced myself into the room, striding over to one of the boxes and yanking at the handle with my hand. It wouldn't budge.

"Don't do that!" Fritz exclaimed, rushing in behind me. I pulled harder, almost breaking the metal away from the box.

"_These are their bodies_?" I replied incredulously. "_Who did you send back? Were they even real people?_"

"The families have a symbol of their loved ones." Fritz's voice was calm, almost unfeeling. I wanted to rip his throat out. "They do not need to know the true location of their children."

"But _why_? Why keep them here away from the people who _love_ them?" Tears were forming in my eyes, the thought of so many parents grieving over a lie, being deprived such a basic right. I balled up my fists, ready to strike, until Fritz spoke again.

"So you can choose."

* * *

Suddenly the realisation dawned on me. I could bring someone back to life. I could take a tribute and restore them from their steel coffin. I could send them home.

The concept was too much to grasp. I had to be dreaming. Maybe Cornelius _had_ given me that strange smoking liquid and I had been sent into some kind of drug haze – any minute now I would wake up with Haymitch beside me and vomit around the corners of my mouth. But nothing changed. I could still feel the cold of the metal handle against my skin. This was real.

"I know this idea is hard to grasp." Fritz began again, speaking almost from a script. I wondered if this same proposal had been made to the many tributes before me. "President Snow likes to show his gratitude to those who have courage, those who succeed. You have been given a great power and it should not be taken lightly." I removed my hand from the handle to press it to my forehead. The sudden change in temperature helped me to focus. Who on earth did I choose?

"I can save only one?" I asked, my voice cracked and shaky. Fritz slowly nodded.

"Only one." The concept rang in my head. One person. Out of 23. But there were so many. Marley, Rory, Tina, Kurt, Santana, Joe, Finn… Blaine.

"You do not have to accept this offer." Fritz continued suddenly, taking another step further towards me. "This is not a command, merely an opportunity."

"Do you offer this to the other victors?" I asked, wanting to buy myself some time. The scientist nodded.

"Most choose not to accept. Some use it as an opportunity to give them another chance to kill someone, a death they were not completely, _satisfied_ with." I could imagine the sluggish feeling of waking up from 6 months of death, slowly opening your eyes and rising upwards only to be met with the lethal glare of your victor, brandishing a knife to cut your new life short in just a few seconds… My whole body shuddered.

"What about the others?"

"Others use it to repay a debt. To bring back somebody they failed. And some use it to rekindle a lost love." Immediately I knew what he meant. I could bring back Blaine. I could have him here, with me again – feel his beating heart and touch his soft warm skin once more. The thought was so beautiful it was almost too much to bear. But I had to think about this.

"Of course, nobody can know about this." Fritz suddenly said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "The project is a great secret of the Capitol. If any resurrected tribute is discovered it could spell disaster for the entire Games." There could only be one winner. If you brought back a tribute, the Games were still live. There was no way the Capitol would agree with it.

"Think carefully about your decision." Abruptly something was placed into my hand – I looked down to see a small pager. It was barely the size of my palm, and would easily fit into my secret jacket pocket.

"This pager is for you. If you decide to take up the President's offer, type the name of the person you wish to save into this before midnight, and tomorrow the process will be done. If midnight passes and no message has been received, I will take this as you declination." I nodded. Right now it was impossible for me to even think, let alone make any kind of reply. Fritz closed my fingers around the pager and then walked over to check the damage to the handle I had yanked at.

"Return to the party. Tell nobody where you have been. The President will not tolerate traitors." The door out of the morgue suddenly opened and I realised I was to walk through it. My feet felt heavy and as the elevator transported me back up to the surface I wondered what on earth had just happened. The pager was still in my hand so I carefully slipped it into my secret pocket, feeling it rest against Blaine and Marley's nametags.

* * *

When I re-entered the party it felt like I was somewhere else. Everything seemed distant from me now – my thoughts focused only on the events that had just occurred. Flicking my eyes up to the clock I saw it was only just gone eleven – I had an hour to decide. What on earth did I do? Messing with fate was not something to be encouraged, but I had an opportunity here. I had any opportunity to repay a debt, right a wrong. I could bring somebody's family joy again, just as my family had when I had returned to District 12. Surely somebody deserved that? Surely _I_ deserved that? I was about to ponder the idea some more, when suddenly I saw the approaching figures of Haymitch, Effie, and another Capitol woman. Quickly my hand darted away from the inside of my jacket and instead wedged itself in my trouser pocket.

"_Where have you been_?" Effie asked, her tone scolding, like a mother finding her lost child. She grabbed hold of my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes, as if she were trying to read my mind. I saw Haymitch staring at me with inquisitive eyes but tried to avoid his glare. He was most likely to figure me out out of anyone, and I couldn't afford that.

"I went to the toilet." I replied, the excuse lame, but all I could think of. Effie's eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

"For _twenty-five minutes_?" Was that how long I had been gone? I couldn't remember the time when I had left.

"I felt sick." I replied feebly again. For a second I felt like I was going to be questioned, that Haymitch would be brought in and my resolve would crumble. But then the Capitol lady intervened.

"My dear Sam! You don't have to go all the way to the _toilet_ to deal with that!" Handing me another glass of the smoking liquid I saw her long fingers pointing to a room across the other side of the hall and realised what she meant. Capitol people making themselves sick, whilst others starved and begged for sustenance.

"It's ok, I'm fine now." I replied, handing back the drink. I pushed forward into the crowd, allowing myself to be swamped by adoring people so I could forget the looks of caution my team expressed behind me.

* * *

At quarter to twelve I found myself on the balcony again. Somehow I had managed to shake off my legion of fans, Effie and Haymitch nowhere to be seen. President Snow had made his grand entrance and we had exchanged knowing looks – he knew the decision I had to make. The pager lay in my hands, like a time bomb waiting to go off. Did I have to do this? Most of the victors declined – maybe that was the sensible thing to do. Once people were dead, they should stay that way – that was nature's intention. Could I really cheat that with one simple name? For a second I imagined Marley, coming home on the train to District 11. I imagined her knocking at the door to her house, her parents' faces as they opened it and saw their darling daughter alive and well again. I saw them smiling and laughing, living together peacefully – in secret, but happy. Then I saw the face of Kurt, restored back to his former glory, the chance for me to finally say sorry and forgive myself for what I had done. I saw Tina, reunited with Mike, the joy in his eyes as they held each other and kissed once again. And finally, I saw Blaine – his soft black hair glinting in the sunlight as he smiled and ran his fingers gently over the tips of mine.

My fingers moved to type a name into the pager, paused over the send button, and then clicked it.


	13. The Return Of The Fallen

**Chapter 13 - The Return Of The Fallen  
**

I couldn't even think. My mind was buzzing with static, things flashing through my mind that I could neither see properly nor even begin to process. My hands shook and as I sat fiddling erratically with a badge with my name on I had picked up from the party, I wondered how on earth I was going to get through today.

* * *

Haymitch and Effie had been distant since the evening. I knew my mentor sensed something was up, but guessed he had the nous to wait until the best time to quiz me about it. I only hoped that wouldn't be soon. As he entered the room I looked up and saw him staring at me with sad eyes.

"Morning." I made no reply, staring down instead at the letters of my name. I was an accessory now, I was a commodity. My name was gold.

"How are you feeling?" Another question was asked my way and I shot it down.

"Fine." I tried not to let my eyes flick up to the clock whilst Haymitch was looking, but it was hard. My pager had told me to be back at the secret basement morgue at half past five. That was hours from now.

* * *

"_I know_." Suddenly my head jerked. The movement had been so quick that my finger jabbed against the pin of my badge and sent a jolt of pain through the tip – I let out a noise and immediately brought it towards my mouth. He knew? He knew what? About the deal? About what I had done? The taste of blood filled my mouth – for a second it brought back memories – memories that shouldn't have been combined with the stress I was currently feeling – memories that almost pushed me over the edge. But Haymitch continued.

"They did it to me too." He said, making my brain struggle to keep up, to wonder how much trouble I was going to be in. "Of course, it was a woman in my case, but still."

"Did what?" I managed to blurt out, my finger still wedged into my mouth to stop the screams that were threatening to spill out.

"Tried to buy me. For sex." Instantly relief washed over me. This was about Cornelius, not the deal. I was still safe. Trying not to let my intense liberation show I pulled my finger out of my mouth – seeing where the pin had jabbed itself into my skin and left a mark.

"Oh." Haymitch sighed, rubbing his forehead with his palm.

"I probably should have told you about that." He began again. "But I thought you might be safe. Because of Blaine…"

"He mentioned Blaine." I replied, my tone almost emotionless, considering the topic we were discussing. "Said that he was dead and that I should move on." The words replayed in my head, the way Cornelius had smiled and my hands had itched to snap his neck in front of everyone.

"Cornelius Dengworth is an ass." Haymitch replied, reaching for a drink as he did so. "And seemingly, a _gay_ ass. But he has contacts in high places."

"So attacking and threatening him probably wasn't the best idea." I was preparing myself for a scolding, knowing my lashing out would come back to haunt me some time. They were lucky I hadn't done worse – I could have shown Cornelius just what it was like to be with a tribute. To my surprise, Haymitch laughed.

"Oh no, it was _exactly_ the right idea." I paused, unable to process the comment for a few seconds. Then I looked over, saw the mischievous glint in his eyes, and managed a smile.

* * *

An hour or so later I was rushed out for more press. I had to visit prominent Capitol sites, feign interest and shake hands with people I neither knew or cared about. Most of these places had tributes visit them all the time, but for some reason I was special. I was a 'true' winner. Many people asked me about Blaine but Haymitch deflected them and my guards kept me away from any unwanted people. I stared straight forward, counting down the minutes in my head until half past five.

* * *

When the time had almost come I suddenly realised I needed a diversion. My excuse at the party had been weak, and only Capitol ignorance had saved me. Haymitch and Effie were not so stupid. As I sat in my bedroom trying to prepare myself for the ordeal I was about to go through, I tried to concoct a plan of action. Come on – I was a victor. I had made hundreds of plans in the arena. Not all of them had worked – but I was still here, wasn't I? And I had used my strengths well.

Figuring Effie would be the easiest target I plastered on my best fake smile and strode out of my room, trying to look like nothing was going on. As I entered the main living area I was happy to see that Haymitch was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Effie's room was at the far end of the floor – I knocked on the door and waited for her to speak before entering. I had never been in this room – it seemed more like a garden. There were flowers everywhere, and the room reeked of perfume and make up. It was kind of like the room your grandmother would have, if she were an eight-year-old girl. Effie was sat by the mirror examining something on her face, and when she turned around she seemed surprised to see me.

"Sam!" I smiled, bowing my head in greeting. My friend rose to her feet and tottered over, for once not in heels but still standing on her tiptoes. She seemed even taller now and I towered over her like a bodyguard.

"What can I do for you?" She asked. I paused, knowing that if I said the wrong thing now I would be found out, and everything would be ruined.

"I was just wondering…if it was ok for me to go for a walk." I began, trying to sound nonchalant. "Now that all the press stuff is done for the day. There was some stuff I didn't get to see." Inwardly I held my breath, waiting for the response that would decide my fate. Effie looked at me for a few seconds, before he face broke out into a wide smile.

"Of course my dear!" She replied, almost excitedly. "Explore away! I'll let Haymitch know where you've gone." My whole body relaxed, knowing I had made it. I felt bad manipulating my friend, and playing on her love for the Capitol, but it had to be done. I had to get to that basement.

"Thanks." I replied, meaning it. I placed my hand on her shoulder and for a second she stared at me, surprised. I viewed Effie like an Aunt, a guiding light that kept me on the right track. I knew there was nothing romantic in the relationship. But sometimes, I felt a deeper connection there. Like I understood her more than anyone else could. Removing my arm the brief moment was gone – Effie shook her head and her smile returned.

"Have fun!" Turning around to leave I closed my eyes and hoped she would not be too disappointed when my betrayal was revealed.

* * *

I walked quickly through the Capitol streets. It was important nobody recognised me, as I would no doubt be trapped in conversations that would make me beyond late, but I also had to make sure nobody knew where I was going. Fritz's words rang in my head, and I knew what would happen if anyone found out about the deal. President Snow had made that clear. I pulled the hood of my coat further up over my head – luckily the weather was cold so I had an excuse to be wrapped up. The daylight was fading already so my destination of the President's house was clear.

As I reached the huge iron gates, now closed, a guard moved in my way to stop my progression. Lifting up my hood just enough so he could see my face I saw the recognition in his eyes and immediately had my way cleared again, and the gateway opened. I paced down the corridors, trying frantically to remember which directions I had turned, until eventually I found the one I needed. Stopping by the stretch of wall I ran my hand across the surface and saw the hidden buttons appear. Maybe this was all just a rouse. Maybe President Snow had tricked me, and my devotion was going to be punished by being locked up. Maybe to bring back this life I would have to give my own. But I pressed on, knowing this was something I could no longer back out of. I had to proceed.

* * *

The elevator stopped with a loud clunk. For a second I froze, wondering if I had broken it, or someone had hit the stop button from above. But then the doors opened and I saw the morgue in front of me. Fritz was waiting, almost as if he had never left. I glanced up at the clock and saw I was three minutes early.

"Sam Evans." Fritz said, addressing me more like a subject than an actual person. Walking out from the morgue he held out his hand and I shook it, feeling the slimy texture of the rubber gloves against my skin.

"You have made your choice." He said plainly, pointing to my pager. I handed it back and he slipped it into his pocket.

"Do you stick by it?"

"Yes." I replied, my mind more sure than ever now I could see the drawers. One of which held the person.

"Very well. Let's proceed."

* * *

As I followed Fritz into the morgue I wondered if this was the day my life changed forever. Almost like the day my name was drawn from that bowl, read out to thousands standing in the square and many more watching on the TV. Maybe this was the day my life would change for the better. Fritz walked over to a table in the centre of the room. It was metal, with a control panel and screens that showed data I didn't understand. There was a faint bleeping sound and over the table sat a huge glass chamber that housed the body of…

Blaine.

* * *

For a second I stopped breathing. Just seeing him there brought everything back – the emotions I had felt, the love, the sadness, the fear. The sacrifices he had made for me, how it had felt to see him rising up into the hovercraft and the misery I had felt ever since. The thought of those District 1 thugs smashing up his coffin and his mother sitting in a darkened room, crying over her lost son. But that hadn't been him. He was here, right now. He was with me.

* * *

"Eh hum." I hadn't realised it, but I'd walked right up to the glass chamber and pressed my hand against it. There was a faint buzz against my fingertips and I figured some kind of electrical energy was being passed around the outside. Reacting to Fritz's gaze I moved myself away, but still stared inside. It seemed so strange to see him there, lying completely still, almost as if he were asleep. But he was dead. The pallor of his skin was white, but I could still see the pink tinge to his lips, his soft curly black hair that hadn't grown an inch. He looked thin too. Was this how I had been at the end of the games? The thought made me shudder.

"The procedure will take several minutes." Fritz suddenly said, pushing past me so I was forced to step back and felt a jolt of annoyance run through me. He knew how much I cared for Blaine – I wouldn't have picked him over the others if I didn't. And this was the first time I'd seen him in six months. Wasn't I allowed a bit of adjustment?

"What are you going to do to him?" I asked, my tone a little more curt. Fritz began typing things into machines and checking monitors.

"Pass a series of electrical currents and chemicals through his body. It's a simple procedure." How could it be this simple to bring someone back to life? Had the Capitol had this information for years and only used it on tributes? How many people had died for no reason?

"Will it hurt him?" I asked again, sounding a little more concerned.

"A little." Without another word more buttons were pressed and suddenly the machine around the chamber started whirring. My anxiety rose. They hadn't said anything about it hurting. What if the pain was too much? What if it killed him? I couldn't go through seeing him die again.

"Wait!" I shouted, but the noise of the machines was too loud. As I stepped forward once more Fritz's hand darted out to push me back. He was surprisingly strong and he handed me a pair of strange sunglasses.

"Stand in the corner." He shouted over the noise. His arm gestured over to the other side of the room and I was forced to obey. When I arrived at my viewpoint the volume of the machines had got even louder – it was amazing nobody could hear this from the mansion. As the machines whirred the electric current I had felt around the outside of the chamber seemed to get stronger – a buzzing sound combined with the rest of the noise and suddenly light began to spread over the surface, blocking Blaine's body from me.

"Blaine!" I cried out, desperation taking over me. Was this right? Was this supposed to happen? As light filled the room I saw why I needed the sunglasses. Suddenly it became so bright I had to lower my head, staring at the floor as pulses of light and sound radiated over the chamber, building and building to a climax that I was sure was going to end with the shattering of the glass and my dreams.

"READY!" Fritz shouted over the din to himself, poised by a lever, ready to push it down. "READY…!" Suddenly there was an explosion. Sparks shot out, I was thrown backwards and hit the wall with a thunk. Thankfully it seemed to be slightly padded, probably for this reason, and I braced myself enough to feel only a jarring pain in my shoulder as I fell to the floor. Opening my eyes I expected to see debris everywhere, but amazingly the glass chamber was still intact. The machines were still whirring and the light was dying down to a white glow. Had he done it? Beginning to pick myself up off the floor I noticed the glass slowly retracting down into the table. As the light dimmed I saw Blaine's body, still intact, but unmoving. Fritz walked over to him and examined it.

I knew this was the point where I should get up, but for some reason I couldn't. My body stayed rooted to the floor, almost as if the shock had paralyzed me. Blaine was potentially alive. What would I do now? How would I feel, how _should_ I feel? My ears strained for any sound, any movement – then I heard the sound of a breath. The foot on the table moved. _Blaine was alive_.

* * *

For a few seconds there was nothing. Blaine's body continued to move, tiny little jerks that I presumed were from his body waking up, adjusting to itself. I focused my eyes on his feet, still terrified that this was all an illusion, that he would suddenly drop dead again and I would die with him. Fritz was pressing some more buttons, checking his subject over. Then, very quietly, the subject spoke.

"W-where am I?" My heart leapt. The voice was hoarse, almost unrecognisable. But it was his.

"You are in the Capitol." Fritz replied, as if this was a completely normal situation and somebody hadn't just returned from the dead.

"How did I get here?" I was struggling to breathe. Slowly pulling myself to my feet, I saw Fritz standing in front of Blaine, covering his eyes from mine.

"Somebody helped you. And they would like to say hello." Fritz stepped away and suddenly I could see my friend alive for the first time. For a second my heart stopped completely, but then I realised Blaine still couldn't see me. The stiffness of his body meant he couldn't move his head more than a few inches, so slowly I began to walk forward. My heart had started beating again and was now pounding in my chest – I held my breath and took the final step that would bring me into Blaine's view.

* * *

It was like seeing the sun for the first time. Blaine's eyes lit up – he immediately went to move towards me but found he couldn't, frustration flashing across his expression before he returned to stare at me with a look of utter adoration.

"_Sam…"_He croaked, unable to say anything else. I brought my hand over to gently touch his face, gasping when I felt the warmth of his skin and realised he was actually there. This wasn't an illusion. Blaine was alive and he was with me. Running my fingers softly down his cheek I felt tears pooling in my eyes, tears of happiness and sheer joy. I stopped by his lips, feeling the moisture as I ran along them and then seeing Blaine open his mouth slowly to softly kiss my fingertips. My other hand reached to grab hold of his, pulling it up towards me so the movement surprised everyone, but feeling his fingers close round mine tightly and pressing my lips to them.

"Blaine…" Suddenly it felt like the final piece of my life had slipped into place again. Suddenly I felt like I was whole.

Abruptly Fritz broke the moment by stepping over with what looked like some kind of scanner. He went to move me out of the way, but I kept my hand tightly gripped onto Blaine's and refused to leave him, which seemed to cause slight annoyance. Jeez – I had just been reunited with him for Christ's sake. Placing the scanner over Blaine's head he began to slowly wave it over, looking at the screen.

"What are you checking?" I asked, feeling Blaine's pulse through my fingers.

"For any brain damage that might have occurred during the procedure." After scanning Blaine's head for a few seconds, he placed the contraption on the side and then produced several long thin needles, which he then proceeded to stab into my friend's arm.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, arm shooting out to stop him. Blaine winced slightly in pain and it shot through my heart like I was being stabbed too. "What's that for?"

"To check for nerve damage." Fritz shook me off, and then continued to stab Blaine lightly down the different parts of his arm. I could see what he was doing, but it still didn't give me any joy to have him in pain. Not after all the pain we had already both suffered. Once Fritz had finished his examination, Blaine seemed a little more active. His right had was still clutched onto mine, but his left one was flexing and I could see his body itching to move.

"Help me up." He croaked. I immediately reached for his shoulders, cradling them in my arms as I gently picked him up and moved him to a sitting position. Fritz tried to help, but I was more than capable of doing it myself. Once he was upright I noticed how thin Blaine was – his ribs were visible as he breathed and his face was hollow. But he didn't look in pain. He looked exultant.

"Sam." He breathed out again, reaching out for my fingers. I clasped his hands with mine and sat down close, so our bodies were touching.

"How did…?"

"I don't know." I replied, half laughing, half crying. "But you're here now." Suddenly I leant forward, unable to contain myself anymore. Our lips connected and it felt like we were both reborn. Blaine was weak, so I had to control myself, but he kissed back as much as he could, bringing up one hand to wind in my hair and pull me closer. When we drew away I could see the desire in his eyes.

"You look…good." He said, glancing up and down my torso. "_Really_ good." I could tell he was confused by my healthy state. Did he think the Games had only just finished?

"You look hungry." I replied, smiling and brushing his cheek with my thumb. I just couldn't stop touching him – my mind scared that if I let go he would suddenly disappear and the illusion would become lost.

"We need to get him on a dialysis." Fritz said, interrupting out tender reunion. "It's going to take several days to get him to a stable condition." As I helped Blaine back onto the table and various wires were plugged into his arms, he seemed confused and scared.

"But how…" He asked, staring round like a scared rabbit. "How long have I been dead?" I sighed, gripping hold of his hand again and caressing his dry knuckles.

"Blaine," I replied. "It's the victory tour right now. You've been dead for six months."


	14. The Process Of Rehabilitation

I had never thought about what this experience would be like for Blaine. I had thought about myself – how it would make me feel, how I would have to hide everything from the people I was closest to until the right, safe, time came. I had dithered about the ethics and fought against my guilt over other tributes. But surprisingly, I had not once thought about the person I was saving, When Blaine had given his life for mine, he hadn't intended on coming back. I suppose his first thought upon wakening would have been that he had failed – that he was alive and I had died instead. Then to see me, strong, healthy – my hollow appearance at the end of the Games a distant memory – would have completely confused him. The idea that this was a dream might have crossed his mind, that I wasn't real, just like I had feared them same for him. Joy, mixed with fear, mixed with the pain of having your body reboot and fix itself. Blaine was a mess. But he was alive.

* * *

As Fritz had begun the rehabilitation process I had stood dutifully by and watched everything, gripping onto Blaine's hand as all kinds of chemicals and medicines had been pumped through his veins. He had drifted in and out of consciousness, and occasionally I had heard my name whispered under his breath, the intermittent tightening of his hand on mine. This is what had happened to me, lying alone in that Capitol hospital room. I hadn't had anyone, just the realisation that everyone I had cared about was dead. After a while Blaine had zoned out completely and Fritz had suggested I get back to reality. The notion had shocked me. Leave Blaine now? After finally finding him again? I had fought, but eventually the reality that if I stayed too long people would begin to suspect, forced me to concede. I stepped into the elevator nervous and concerned – not just for me, but for Blaine too.

"If he's not alive when I come back." I said to my doctor friend before I had left him. "If this is just some elaborate scam and you take him away from me again – I will pull out your guts and strangle you with them."

I had meant it.

* * *

I had entered the home suite as quietly as I could and found no Haymitch and Effie. Sitting down on the sofa and trying to look like I had been here a while I switched on the TV until the sound of the former entering the room captured my attention.

"Hey." Haymitch said. He sounded surprisingly sober – maybe he was starting to enjoy the tour now.

"Hey." I replied back, trying to sound as emotionless as possible. My mentor strolled lazily over to the couch next to mine and sat down, rubbing his face with his hands.

"We need to talk." Crap. Immediately my blood went cold. How could he know? Had I made a mistake? Had somebody seen me? If anybody tried to take Blaine away, if anyone tried to stop us from seeing each other again – I would kill them.

"Why?" Desperately trying to hide the panic in my voice I kept my body as relaxed as I could and concentrated fiercely on the TV. Haymitch sighed and ran his fingers through his unruly hair.

"People have been bugging me, the press – asking the same questions over and over again..." Well Blaine hadn't been mentioned right away. I was pretty sure that if Haymitch had known it would have been the first thing to come out of his mouth, along with some swearwords. What was he talking about?

"What kind of questions?" My mentor paused, as if building up the courage to say something.

"They want to know about Blaine." I wasn't sure how to respond. Shock coursed through my body, but for a different reason than it should have. "You need to do an interview." Haymitch continued, obviously taking my reaction as a bad one. "Your story with Blaine was one of the things that won you the Games – people wanted to see what happened. They loved you two and you had the perfect tragic ending. Like Romeo and Juliet." It seemed strange to hear Blaine's name again. I had pushed it away for so long that it was almost alien, and now to talk about him when I knew he was alive seemed even stranger. "If you don't talk about him the public will begin to get tired. You'll lose your followers – and that's not good. For any of us." I brought myself back to reality, trying to process the words. The Capitol wanted their cry fest – they wanted me to pour my soul out about my dearly departed lover. If I didn't give it to them they'd leave me – President Snow would leave me. And you didn't piss off the president. Two days ago my response would have been no – a resounding no. They could take away everything the Capitol provided and I wouldn't care. But now… I saw an opportunity.

"Ok." I replied. Haymitch abruptly stopped, shock smashing across his face. He hadn't been expecting that. I tried to look like nothing had happened.

"_What_?" My mentor replied, his tone incredulous. I imagined he had spent hours coming up with battle strategies, ways to pin me down with words.

"I'll do it." The words seemed strange even coming from my own mouth. Haymitch stared back at me, mouth open, eyes wide. "One interview. But I have conditions."

"Name them."

"Firstly," I began, speaking slowly, so my words wouldn't be misunderstood. "I want free range of the Capitol in the evenings. Nobody knows where I go, nobody knows what I do, and _no guards_." Haymitch's brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything.

"Go on…"

"Secondly…" The image of that grand stage flashed into my mind, the roar of the crowds, the blinding lights, my face on the huge screens. "It has to be Caesar."

* * *

As night drew in I lay in my bed, knees curled up to my chest. My sheets were too closed around me, baking me in warmth, but I couldn't be bothered to rip them away. I knew everyone was shocked by my approval of the interview – they knew me and my thoughts well – but I didn't let it bother me. Now I had my way to see Blaine. Nobody would question me, nobody would look where I went. I was sure Haymitch suspected something dodgier, something related to Cornelius Dengworth, but I didn't care. For an hour or so of talking, I was free.

* * *

I shut my eyes, trying to let sleep come. I'd figured with the realisation that Blaine was alive again, my mind would finally be peaceful. But now worry plagued my thoughts – what was happening to him, was he ok? Would he survive the night? To have been so close to him again, to feel his warmth against mine, only to have it ripped away once more – it made me anxious. I had to see him again.

Jumping out of bed I quickly dressed myself, my heart pounding. I knew this wasn't really part of mine and Haymitch's bargain but didn't really care – I wouldn't sleep otherwise. Creeping silently out of my room I opened the door to the elevator as quietly as I could, then pressed the button for the bottom floor.

* * *

The Capitol streets were still fairly busy – I pulled the hood of my jacket up so nobody would recognise me and kept my head bowed as I stalked along the semi crowded streets. President Snow's mansion loomed up ahead, and when I made my way to the back entrance and flashed my face, not one of the guards made any change to their expression. The route to the basement was rooted in my mind now, so I stepped back into the elevator and descended downwards.

* * *

Blaine was still on his table. Fritz was nowhere to be seen, but I figured computers would be monitoring my friend 24 hours a day. As the glass door to the morgue slid open I walked slowly in, glancing around at all the other coffins as I did so. It was rather sick to have all this go on down here. What would happen to the other bodies now? They were never going to be resurrected – would they be destroyed? Would they be left to rot? For a second my eyes glanced around trying to find a key, rifling through papers on another desk, but then I abruptly stopped. Seeing them would bring nothing but misery for me. Pacing over to the table I saw Blaine sound asleep. He looked almost dead again, but as I crouched to put my eyes level with his chest I saw it rising up and down slowly. He seemed a little fuller than last time, the medication already working. But he was still thin and frail. There wasn't much space on the table, but I hoisted myself up anyway, pushing Blaine a little to the side and ducking under wires to slot myself next to him. He was lying on his back, but I nestled myself against his side anyway, and rested my head on the cold surface. It wasn't comfortable in the slightest, but somehow it felt like home. Resting my hand over his heat I felt the soft vibrations against my fingers – bu-bum, bu-bum, bu-bum – and closed my eyes.

* * *

I was awoken by a slight movement next to me. Blaine had begun to stir, his body moving slowly. When he opened his eyes he seemed surprised to have company, even more so when he realised it was me.

"Sam?" As I stirred my own body I almost fell off the table, arm flashing out to grab onto the metal and keep myself up there. Blaine attempted to turn his body towards mine, but wires got in the way and he looked frustrated.

"What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep." I replied sheepishly, a small smile creeping across my face. Blaine's eyes were so pure, so innocent – I had missed staring into them. "And I wanted to make sure…that you were still here." Reaching out my hand I threaded it through his hair, the soft texture against my fingers. Blaine sighed and I leant down to press my lips to his, closing my eyes and exhaling as we connected.

* * *

"_What is this_?" Suddenly an irate voice shot through the air. Breaking away I lifted my head up to see the angry face of Fritz, bursting into the room.

"_What are you doing_?" Sensing I was in trouble, I went to move off the table, but Blaine gripped hold of my arm weakly so I stayed in a half sitting position.

"I, I couldn't sleep." I replied, knowing the excuse was useless now. Fritz stalked over to us, pausing briefly only to check Blaine screens, before turning back to berate me.

"You are not allowed to be here! What if somebody saw you? What if your mentors are worried?" His face was almost pink – I had never seen him this angry before.

"I made a deal!" I countered, trying desperately to save myself. If Fritz stopped me from coming in I didn't know what I would do. "I have free range in the evenings – nobody knows where I go!"

"Well incase you didn't notice, now is _not_ the evening." An arm moved to push me roughly off the table – I clattered to the floor and felt a shooting pain through my shoulder, but ignored it. When I jumped back up to my feet I saw Blaine looking distressed, as Fritz started plugging more wires into him again.

"Please!" I begged, desperation in my voice. "Please let me stay! I'll help with the rehabilitation – I'll do anything! I promise it won't happen again, I was just scared and I needed him, I…" Fritz didn't reply to my pleading, but he didn't order me out either. As he finished the final few adjustments to Blaine's medication he turned to fix me with a steely glare.

"You can stay." He replied, emotion void from his voice. "But _no more surprises_." I sighed with relief, feeling Blaine's hand reach out to link with mine again, and seeing the same emotion across his face too.

* * *

For the next two days I lived a double life. In the daytime I was Sam Evans – Hunger Games Victor and celebrity. I visited all the local places, posed for photos and greeted fans. When I got back to the home building I would be briefed on how everything had gone and what would happen the next day. Then in the evening, I would slip off and become Sam Evans the carer. Blaine improved every time I saw him, slowly beginning to walk and move around the room, but the progress was sluggish. I knew we had only a few days to go until I returned back to District 12, and prayed he would be fit enough to travel then.

* * *

"How can you spend so much time down here?" Blaine asked as we sat together on one of the metal benches. For brief periods of time during the evening we would get moments alone, although Fritz was always flitting around across the other side of the room. It was hard not to resent the grating, emotionless character of our Capitol acquaintance – but I knew without him none of this would have been possible, so kept my animosity inward.

"Don't your team wonder where you are?" I smiled, rubbing the back of his neck with my thumb and feeling his fingers slowly brush against my other hand.

"I made a deal." I replied, lowering my voice so our friend across the room wouldn't listen in. "The public wanted me to do an interview about you, so I said I would, as long as I had my evenings completely free." At the mention of himself, Blaine's eyebrows furrowed.

"And interview about _me_? Have you not spoken about me before?"

"No." I replied, trying not to let the tone of my voice falter. "It was too painful." Blaine's face scrunched up into a agonized expression, his hand gripping onto mine tightly. Sometimes it was easy to forget the past six months hadn't existed to him.

"I'm sorry…" He began, his words almost strained as he struggled to hold his emotions in. "…that I left you." I shook my head.

"Don't be sorry. You did what you wanted to do."

"I did it for you. To save you."

"I know." Brushing a tear from his cheek I felt moisture pooling in my own eyes. "And I'm glad." All the pain, all the suffering I had gone through – it was worth it for this moment.

"You know if you had been the one that had died, I don't think I could have gone on." Blaine continued, now trying to regain his composure, although I could feel his body shaking beside me. "I think I would have killed myself."

"Well it didn't happen like that." I replied, pulling his face towards mine, not caring that our time alone was probably up. "The Capitol gave us another chance. And now we're both here." As I kissed him again I noticed the increased strength in his lips, the way his hands gripped against my arms and pulled me closer, almost holding me there until his strength eventually sapped and he was forced to let go.

"I love you." Blaine whispered as we broke away, almost too quietly for me to even here. My mouth opened to reply, but Fritz returned and broke us up before anything could come out.


	15. The Scoop Of The Century

**Chapter 15 - The Scoop Of The Century**

The interview was here. I had been so preoccupied with Blaine that I hadn't even thought about it – ironic when the subject was him. As the time drew nearer Effie and Haymitch became more and more cautious, but I got by without any breakdowns or problems. Cinna was brought in to make me up again and I had to fight to withhold my secrets from him.

"You seem different." He said, as he checked the length of my jacket sleeves. I was growing so much from eating properly again that they kept having to adjust my clothes.

"Different?" I replied, trying not to let the alarm bells ringing in my head show. My stylist looked at me carefully, a small smile spreading across his face as his hands travelled up to my shoulders.

"Yes. Something has changed." I looked down at the floor, attempting to seem nonchalant and unafraid.

"Maybe I'm just used to the Capitol now." Cinna laughed, stepping away from me so I breathed an inward sigh of relief.

"Maybe you are."

* * *

The stage was set. Caesar had been more than happy to accept the interview, and I knew he would handle it better than any of the other Capitol journalists. Despite the fact he was an advocate for the Games, and one of the main faces of it – I trusted Caesar. He was one of our allies. As I waited by the side of the stage this felt awfully like the other interviews I had had. I couldn't decide which had been worse – my interview before the Games, or after. Both had been as painful as each other, and both had been a struggle to get through. This one would be no different.

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen." A smaller audience had been gathered this time, only enough to provide the required oohs and aahs that would make the taping even more special. For this reason Caesar spoke mainly to the camera – my golden throne next to him. "For one evening only, you are invited to a very special meeting. Sam Evans – winner of the 74th Hunger Games, and a true champion – answers all of your questions. No holds barred." The man next to me with a clipboard signalled for me to enter the lights. Stepping forward I heard the quiet cheers and applause of the crowd, knowing there would be thousands more at home doing the same. I wondered if they were broadcasting this to all the Districts, or just the Capitol. I couldn't imagine anyone in District 1 wanting to watch – I couldn't imagine anyone who knew me desiring to either. They knew this would be painful. I waved briefly to the crowds and then saw Caesar smiling at me. He knew just how to pitch his expressions – vivid enough to keep the excitement for the Capitol crowds, but subdued enough to let me know he was still there.

* * *

"Sam! Come and take a seat." As I settled down in my throne again I already began to feel uncomfortable. Despite my billing as a 'true' victor I never really felt I fitted the role well. I wasn't use to lapping up people's praise, hence why I had shied away from girls and an interesting life. Suddenly the thought as to whether Blaine himself would be watching this flashed into my mind, and made me temporarily shocked. Caesar noticed but didn't seem to react, and simply carried on.

"How are you my friend? Has the Capitol been treating you well?"

"Yes." I replied, putting on my best fake smile and trying to cover what I was feeling inside. "I have enjoyed myself here. It is nice to return."

"Well I imagine you must have caused quite a stir back in District 12 – how did they react to having another victor after so long?" He was deflecting the conversation, getting me comfortable before he launched into the gritty stuff everyone wanted to hear. I was fine with that.

"They were…they were proud I guess. My win wasn't quite as impressive as Haymitch's, but I guess they were happy I represented the district."

"Oh no!" Caesar countered, leaning slightly towards the crowd as he spoke. "On the contrary – I think your victory was more impressive than Haymitch's will ever be. Do you want to know why?" Not really knowing how I should respond, I simply nodded my head. "You Sam, are a man of the people." Clapping his hands together, Caesar spoke to the people watching, here and in their homes. "You touched their hearts and you won with yours. _That_ is what makes you a champion." Applause rang out through the arena. I smiled, pretending I was enjoying it, but just thinking of that cold metal room underneath President Snow's house.

* * *

"Speaking of your heart." Caesar continued after a short while. I knew this was the point where my induction ended and I was thrown into the deep end. "We all know there was something special about your victory – not just yourself. The last person to die in the Games shared a very special bond with you, didn't he?" I swallowed, knowing this was going to be hard. If I distanced myself – thought about how I would be beside Blaine tonight – how he would be on the train with me tomorrow travelling back home so we could live in peace - I could get through this.

"Yes." I replied, plainly.

"Blaine played a very important role in these Games, not just for himself. For you."

* * *

Caesar began to ask me about our first meeting at the start of training. For once I could smile as I remembered my animosity towards him.

"I didn't even like him in the beginning." I said, almost chuckling. "I pretended targets were his head!" Laughter rippled through the crowd.

"Why did he have such an adverse reaction?"

"I guess, I just thought he was like all of the other Careers. Only here for one thing. He seemed to be their leader so I knew he was my main competition. If I wanted to return to my family."

"The Careers wanted you to join them, didn't they?"

"I presume so. But when Finn rejected them, I guess they didn't bother asking anyone else."

"Would you have said yes?"

"No." The thought of me as a Career, what I would have been capable of, still made me shudder. "I never would have joined them."

"Interesting…" Caesar replied, leaning back into his chair slightly. "Well luckily for you, Blaine had a hidden agenda. Why do you think he defected from the Careers? Do you think it was for you?" I knew the answer to this question – Blaine had told me right before he died. His persona had always been an act – a chance to get away from the arranged marriage and life he never wanted to live. He was sure of his sexuality before he even met me. I didn't know how much of this should be broadcast however, so changed the story slightly.

"I don't know really. I think he just grew tired of what the Careers were doing, wanted to escape. And then he just happened to run into me." Caesar gave me a sideways glance, showing me he didn't believe me, but didn't push.

"You obviously didn't give him a good reception. Are you glad you let him stay?"

"Of course. He saved my life a bunch of times – if it hadn't been for him I would be dead right now. And I guess I liked the company. With Marley and Rory gone I…" Wow. The names had slipped into conversation without me even thinking. For a second I froze, but forced myself to carry on. "I needed someone there. And Blaine was that person."

"From then on you began to forge a strong bond. What do you think was the point where you realised there was something more?" I cocked my head to the side, having to think about the question.

"I think it was our time by the river. When you're completely exposed around someone like that, and you know that you're safe – I guess that tells you something about them. I felt like I could relax – like I finally had someone I could trust." Nodding, Caesar quickly moved the conversation on to the romantic aspects. I talked about how I had felt in the video cave, the strength it had taken to not kill Blaine, and then the confusion over our kiss. I felt myself blush slightly at the mention of it – despite knowing that everyone in the country had witnessed it.

"Had you ever been kissed before?"

"Of course, lots of times. But this one…it felt different. I was still a little confused so it took a while to process, but then I realised this was something I had never felt before."

"Do you think you had been waiting for this moment? To truly discover yourself?" I paused, unable to answer.

"I don't know."

* * *

The interview lasted almost an hour. For a while I became lost in it, taking myself back to several parts of the Games. These were happier memories – memories I actually wanted to remember. In the breaks between killings Blaine and I had been _happy_ – we had shared in something special and we had found each other. Not many people could say they found love in the middle of a war, but we had. Thinking of him waiting for me in that room made me value it all more – I couldn't wait to see him again.

"Did you love Blaine?" Caesar asked, the final question of the evening. I paused, knowing this was the thing I had been trying to avoid for months – ever since the Games had ended.

"Come on – he's not here now – you can tell us!" The Capitol audience murmured, some on the edge of their seats, wanting to hear the words they had been waiting for with bated breath. He was here, he was probably watching me right now, waiting like them. I sighed, resigning myself to defeat.

"Yes. I think I do."

* * *

When I returned to the basement Blaine was waiting to greet me at the door. Fritz wouldn't let him leave the morgue but as soon as I entered the room he threw his arms around me and kissed me deeply.

"Sam!" I knew he had seen the interview, seen what I had revealed. I had said the right thing, but I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I hadn't been entirely truthful. Still, I kissed back and pretended everything was ok. Which technically it was – Blaine was here.

"_You spoke in the present_." Suddenly the voice of Fritz averted my attention. Looking over I saw him looking sternly in my direction.

"What?" I replied, not really understanding.

"In the interview. You said you '_do_' love him, not that you '_did_'." I shrugged my shoulders.

"So?"

"_Do you know_ what will happen if anyone finds out about Blaine's return?" I ignored my acquaintance's scolding, looking simply at Blaine.

"Nobody will notice." I said without averting my gaze. "It was just a slip of the tongue." As we kissed again I heard the sound of tutting, but ignored it once more.

"Your strength seems to have improved." I said to Blaine once we pulled away, feeling him hang off my body. My eyes glanced briefly over again to Fritz, hopefulness now in my gaze. He still seemed a little perturbed, but responded.

"It has. He should be fit to travel now." Excellent. Now we could finally go home. I smiled, squeezing Blaine tightly and seeing the joy in his eyes.

"I will make the arrangements for him to be separately transported." The words stopped me in my tracks.

"What?"

"Blaine cannot travel with you." Fritz looked unaffected by my surprise, speaking plainly. "It is too much of a risk."

"_Why_?"

"If anybody sees him, our cover is blown. Everything will be destroyed." Feeling the grip on my shirt tighten I looked back at Blaine to see his scared eyes staring back at me.

"No. Blaine stays with me." My expression had hardened, and I spoke with gritted teeth.

"You will see him again in a matter of hours."

"I don't care. I said I would never leave him and I won't. We'll disguise him."

"That is impossible, I-"

"-_We'll disguise him_." I cut Fritz short, ending the argument. "You have been of great service to us both, but we'll take it from here now." Stroking Blaine's fingertips in our signature way, I controlled my breathing and tried to calm down.

"Well if you're going to insist on this, you won't be able to do it alone." Fritz seemed to have resigned, but was still talking. His grating tone annoyed me. "Someone in your team will have to be notified, let in on the secret." The realisation struck me, making my anger disappear and instead be replaced by fear. Oh God.

We would have to tell Haymitch.


	16. The Small Taste Of Freedom

_Hey guys - I planned a scene from this chapter before I even started writing the whole story, so hope it lives up to my expectations!_

_Liz xxx_

* * *

**Chapter 16 - The Small Taste Of Freedom**

"YOU DID _**WHAT**_**?**" Haymitch stood in the cold morgue, burning up the room with his fiery explosion of anger. I almost felt like I was being scalded myself. Fearing the worst, but knowing this would have to happen if Blaine and I were to avoid being parted, I had trudged back up to the home building and requested Haymitch accompany me to see something. He had been sceptical at first, but as we had approached President Snow's mansion, his face had begun to turn cold.

"Sam…" He had begun; almost as if he didn't want to speak the words he was about to say. "You didn't…" I had bitten my lip and said nothing, right until we reached the hidden elevator and I closed my eyes, ready for the wrath.

I hadn't been wrong.

* * *

Blaine cowered behind me, obviously unaccustomed to my mentor's temper. I shuddered under his verbal blows, but managed to keep my body steady.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID AS TO ACCEPT A CAPITOL DEAL?" Haymitch's face was a little red ball, his fists clenched and ready to punch something. To the side I could see Fritz staring back at me with a smug satisfied smile on his face and I felt like punching him myself.

"I didn't have a choice." I replied, my response sounding weak and pathetic. "I had to have him back."

"Of _course_ you had a choice! Do you realise what this means now? Your Games are still live! If anyone finds out about this we are _history!_"

"Nobody will find out." Gripping onto Blaine's hand I tried to stand defiantly, but it was hard to argue against my mentor. He was right – I had put everyone at risk for myself. But I couldn't have gone on much longer on my own.

* * *

Running his hands through his hair Haymitch paced across the room – back and forth, back and forth. Part of me wondered if he would try and kill Blaine, a quick slit of the throat and that was that, but I knew he couldn't be that cruel. He had seen what being apart from him had done to me.

"I've told you now – we need your help. Blaine has to travel back with us." I pleaded, starting up the conversation again. Haymitch spun around on his heels.

"Why didn't you tell me before? Why didn't you _consult_ me on this?"

"I wasn't allowed! It had to be a secret, otherwise it never would have worked! Don't you remember your own discussion like this?" My mentor's face darkened considerably.

"Yes." He replied. "I do. _I said no_." I was beginning to feel stupid. Stupid and weak. How many people had actually agreed to this deal? Was I the first? Was this all some kind of trick to pick out the weak from the strong? Blaine sensed my hesitation and gripped hold of my hand tightly to keep me with him.

"Well _I_ said yes." I responded, standing my ground once more. "And we need your help. _Please_ do this for us. _Please_." Haymitch stared back at us. He stared at Fritz, who was looking like he'd just won the lottery. Then, begrudgingly, he nodded.

* * *

The plan was set. Blaine would dress up as a Capitol peacemaker – Haymitch acquiring the outfit from President Snow's ranks. He would escort us onto the train, and then we could conceal him in my chamber. Once we were far enough away from the Capitol he would be free to roam, and when we reached District 12 the process would repeat until he was safely in our house. There wasn't much that could go wrong – Peacemakers were the authority and we had the backing of the Capitol – the underground part anyway. They wanted to keep our secret concealed as much as we did. Saying goodbye to Blaine briefly was hard, but I knew I would see him again soon.

* * *

It was hard keeping everything concealed from Effie, and Cinna – who wouldn't be returning with us and would probably never know about Blaine's return – but he gave me another secret smile when we said goodbye.

"Good luck with everything." He said as we broke away from our hug. "It has been a pleasure to work with you."

"The pleasure is all mine." I replied. Effie hurriedly rushed us onto the train, not knowing that the person next to her was actually Blaine. I tried to keep my expression plain and sorrowful as I waved goodbye to the throngs of crowds, people sobbing and reaching out as I pulled away and back towards my real home, but it was hard not to glance back at him. As Blaine was taken off to my room, I was forced to sit in the dining room for a good half an hour before it was safe enough for us to be reunited.

* * *

Haymitch sat across the other side of the room, sulking. I could tell he was still mad at me for what I had done, but knew he couldn't have turned me away. Fathers always helped their sons.

"Thanks." I said, my voice echoing across the room so he moved slightly in response. "For helping me. Us." A grunt was all I got in response. The glass of gin on the ornate side table next to him was almost empty, so I knew I had to act fast if I wanted to get a proper conversation out of him.

"Why did you say no when they asked you?" I picked myself up and walked slowly over to the second nearest chair to my mentor. I wasn't in line with him, but was close enough for us to converse fairly privately. "When they offered the deal?" Haymitch looked like he wasn't going to reply – his mouth set stubbornly and his face turned towards the window. I popped a grape from the few I had brought with me into my mouth and waited.

"Because it was the right thing to do." Ouch. That hurt a bit. I tried not to let my emotions show, and bit on the grape so the juices poured into my mouth.

"Why?"

"People that are dead should stay dead."

"So if you had the chance to bring back Ophelia – you wouldn't?" Haymitch's face scrunched up in anguish. I wondered if I had said too much – pushed too far – but he simply turned to pick up his glass.

"That is different." It wasn't, but I ignored the comment and continued with my questioning.

"Who would you had saved? If you had said yes." There was another long pause until my mentor replied.

"Her name was Maysilee. She saved my life in the Games – didn't have to. And I held her as she died." I had never heard much about Haymitch's Games – only that he used the force field around the edge of the arena to kill the final tribute. But this, this was something else. Maysilee was his Marley. I was about to respond, say something prophetic, or comforting – I hadn't decided yet – when suddenly a guard came through the door.

"Mr Evans, you chamber is free for you to enter now." Immediately I jumped to my feet – all other thoughts disappearing from my mind. I glanced briefly over to Haymitch as I left, but saw him motionless, staring at his drink.

* * *

As soon as I crashed open the door I saw Blaine over by the bed. He had removed his peacemaker costume and was now dressed in a white cotton shirt and trousers. As his eyes met mine I saw them light up, and immediately we both rushed over. Our bodies connected and I crushed my lips to his, feeling whole once more.

We kissed and kissed and kissed, not stopping until we had barely any energy left. The moment reminded me of our time in the Games – after our escape from the video cave – when I wondered if there would be anything that would ever stop me from connecting with this boy in front of me. The desire rushed through my brain and took over every sense I was in possession of.

When we broke away we were both panting. Both of us still held on tightly to the other, not wanting to let go. For the first time ever, we finally had time alone. _Completely_ alone – with nobody watching or discussing us.

"Blaine…" I murmured under my breath, feeling my pounding heart against his.

"Sam…"

"We made it." Blaine took hold of my face, stroking my cheek gently and staring into my eyes.

"We made it."

* * *

As our lips connected again I knew there was something different about this time. Blaine's hands left my head to travel down my body, running down my neck, across my shoulders and down my sides. When they reached my hips he circled them with his fingers and then slipped them around to my ass. Realising what was happening I brought my own arms around his neck and pulled our bodies closer, feeling the heat already building between us. Blaine's hands skated over the fabric of my trousers, running along my waistband until they slipped underneath and I let out a groan, kissing him harder. He let them sit there for a while, not moving, just feeling, and then brought them back out to move under my shirt and run across my back. Pretty soon the tension became too much, and I let him pull my shirt over my head, breaking contact with our mouths briefly as the fabric passed between us. Once it had dropped to the floor Blaine kissed all over my chest, leaving me to run my hands across his back. I pulled the cotton of his shirt upwards so I could touch his hot skin and then dragged it up towards his own head. When we were both shirtless I picked my boyfriend up, taking him by surprise as I carried him over to the bed and threw us both down. As I clambered on top of him Blaine showed his growing strength, yanking my head down to crush our lips together again and holding me there as my legs straddled his hips, chests and crotches touching.

The kissing went on and on, past dinnertime, past the time where the sun began to descend from the sky and eventually disappeared into the west. When I could do no more, and felt my last piece of energy sap from my bones, I let my body sink into the mattress and slept.

* * *

It must have been morning when I awoke – the sun peeping through the windows we had forgotten to close the curtains of. As I stirred I felt the warmth of Blaine beside me, the sheets of the bed pooled messily around our naked bodies. My eyes ran along his form, taking everything in. It was hard to think that mere weeks ago I had wondered if my life would ever be complete again, if it would ever be worth living the way it had been before the Games. Now my completeness was right in front of me. My face stretched into a smile, a wide, satisfied smile, and I leant over to gently run my fingers through his black hair. This made Blaine stir. His body turned towards me and when he lazily opened his eyes I saw him smile.

"Hey." He whispered, his voice croaky. I smiled again, continuing to comb his hair.

"You slept well." I replied, almost chuckling. Blaine brought his own hand up to brush against my ear.

"Yes. Did you?" I nodded.

"Yes." The hand slipped to the back of my neck, pushing me down gently so our lips connected and I exhaled. As we kissed deeper Blaine ran his hand up my leg, drawing it closer and closer to my inner thigh so eventually I pulled away, giggling.

"Don't." I whispered, grinning like a child. "You'll make me want to do it again."

"Why not?" Blaine replied, not removing his hand and placing a coy look on his face. "_I_ want to…" He went to kiss me again, yanking my leg across his so I yelped and giggled happily, but stopped him once more.

"_Blaine_." My voice gently scolded. "You don't have the energy."

"Yes I do." He replied, still not letting go of me. "I just slept. I have _lots_ of energy."

"Maybe you do. But not for _that_." Feeling my boyfriend sulk, but playfully pushing his head away in response, my eyes drifted over to and focused on a red line on his chest, just below his left nipple.

"Is that…?" Running my finger across it, I realised this was the stab wound Blaine had received. When he'd sacrificed himself. Blaine shifted his body upwards a little to look and I lay across his chest, stroking the mark up and down, up and down.

"They removed all the marks on my body." I said after a while, still not averting my eyes. "After the Games." Blaine nodded his head.

"I can tell. It's like none of it ever happened."

"I don't like it." I replied, finally looking upwards at him. "Everything _did_ happen. It wasn't a dream. It was _real_."

"I know." Blaine responded, pushing back my hair so his fingers ran along my scalp and I momentarily closed my eyes. "But I guess it's over now." I held onto the scar – the true meaning of our relationship – the sacrifices Blaine had made for me and the love we had shared. Then I leant over and kissed it. For a second nothing passed between us, no sound, no movement. Then I abruptly rolled across the bed and stood up, stretching my entire body and scrunching my eyes closed.

"Come on, time for breakfast." I said. Blaine groaned, falling back into the bed and I laughed, before reaching over to drag him out.

* * *

You could sense the change in the air as we entered the breakfast room. Effie and Haymitch were already seated – the former smiled and gave us a cheery greeting, whilst the latter turned away to sulk over his toast. I practically bounced over to the table, grabbing a freshly made scone and plonking myself down on a chair, dragging Blaine down with me onto my lap. He seemed a little surprised but let me position himself sideways and wrap my arm around his waist.

"Great morning isn't it?" I said cheerfully to everyone, beaming. "Do you want some scone?" Offering my food out to Blaine he smiled, leaning forward to take a bite. I giggled as he got the cream all over his face.

"Hey, you got a little…" Reaching out my finger I wiped away the mess, dragging along his lip slightly in a way that made him smile, then swallow loudly. Abruptly Haymitch got to his feet, slamming down his food and storming out of the room.

Silence fell for a brief second. I was a little perplexed about my mentor's continued mood – he should be happy I was happy. Sometimes I wondered if he preferred it more when I was a sobbing mess.

"What's up with him?" I asked, sounding a little haughty. Blaine could sense the animosity so quietly leant across to get some of his own food. I rubbed his back gently as he ate and looked over at Effie, who was trying to form an answer.

"I think…" She began, struggling to get the words out. "I think it's just a little hard for him to see you two together." My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You got to bring back the love of your life, when he never could. That's got to be tough on him." Oh. Letting my free hand hang down I realised my mistake. I still had my family and friends back home and now I had Blaine too. Haymitch had nothing.

"I wouldn't worry" Effie continued, seeing my realisation. "I'm sure he'll get through it eventually." _Eventually_. With Haymitch that could be months. Years. The rest of breakfast was eaten in relevant silence, before Blaine and I returned to our bedroom.

* * *

As I unbuttoned my shirt and let it hang free I walked over to the window, staring out at the countryside rushing by. Maybe we were in District 10 by now – we couldn't be far away. Then we would return to the Victors Village and our normal lives. I imagined Mother and Stacey would take some convincing to accept Blaine into our family, especially keeping him a secret, but we would get through it. Maybe in twenty years time when everyone had forgotten his face we could introduce him into the district – our little secret. Whatever happened though, we would get through it together. Always.

* * *

Feeling the presence of Blaine behind me I felt his arms wrap around my waist and his chin rest on my shoulder. I leant back into his touch and closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

"You worry too much." He whispered, squeezing me gently as he spoke. I knew he was referring to Haymitch and that he was probably right.

"He's like my father y'know. We've been through a lot together."

"I know. Which is why he will understand." Haymitch didn't want to see me suffer – he wouldn't have let Blaine on the train if he had. Whatever animosity he showed, however much he sulked or stormed or shouted, he wanted me to be happy. To live the life that was now impossible for him. Feeling lips press against my neck I cocked my head to the side, exposing more skin, and then turned slowly around to bury my head in his chest.

"I can't believe you're here. That you're _really_ here, with me," I murmured. Blaine ran his fingers through my hair, kissing the top of my scalp before drawing my face up to his with a finger under my chin.

"I'm here. Right here, and I'm never going away." Our lips connected and I felt my whole body relax. All the tension, all the stress over Haymitch was immediately removed. Deepening the kiss fairly quickly Blaine pushed me gently against the window, the roar of the passing scenery rushing through my ears. His hands pawed at my chest and pulled my shirt off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

"I don't think I am ever going to get tired of taking your clothes off." He murmured, grinning as our lips broke away to mouth at each other's skin. I smiled back, reaching for his own shirt buttons.

"Then don't." Everything was removed apart from our underwear, Blaine leading me over to the bed, gently setting me down and then climbing on top of me. He stretched out my arms, running his fingers down them so I giggled when he reached my armpits, and then brought them onto my chest as he kissed me. I craned my neck to deepen the kiss as much as possible, feeling my hands scrabble across his back, almost scratching him. Our desire was so intense, so pure, that we lost ourselves in the moment, in each other.

"I love you." I breathed, my words heavy and laboured. "I love you."

* * *

Suddenly a loud bang stopped up in our tracks. My arms dropped down, hitting against the mattress with a thunk. Blaine still held himself over me, his breathing heavy, but his eyes looked concerned.

"What was that?" He asked.

"I don't know." It could have been the train. We could have hit something, fallen off the track at the very worst. But it hadn't sounded like that. I was about to speak again, to suggest that we go take a look, when the sound of a scream echoed through the carriages. A scream, followed by several shouts, some more banging – then a gunshot.

* * *

Immediately I panicked. Blaine's face grew pale – he tried to hold on and act like everything was fine, but I saw through it.

"Get your clothes." He said. He went to move off the bed, but suddenly I found myself gripping onto his neck, pulling him back.

"Don't leave me." I pleaded, panic in my voice. "Please don't leave me."

"Sam, we need to move, they could be looking for us." Realising he was right I nodded, letting him move towards the edge of the bed but not letting go of him.

"Ok." As we gathered up our things the sounds around us got louder. Something was on the train – a person, an animal, a group of those things. More gunshots rang out, the sound of crashing, people trying to get in the way. I wondered if Haymitch and Effie had been attacked, if they were lying on the floor right now in a pool of blood. Blaine collected most of our clothes as I stood there in a daze, shoving mine into my hands and demanding that I put them on.

"Sam!" This was it. This was the price I paid for cheating death. They were coming for me.

"Sam! We need to leave NOW!" I pulled my trousers on, leaving the rest of my clothes and gripping onto Blaine's hand as we ran towards the window, opening it and getting ready to jump out into the wilderness.

The door crashed open and everything was lost.


	17. The Discovery Of The Secret

_Hey guys - sorry about the delay again! There is going to be a bit of a wait for the next chapter as I am going to Leakycon London(!) so will be busy for 3 days. Then I should be able to post a few more chapters before I go on holiday to New York! It's a busy life :D Anyways, hope you enjoy, and if you see me at Leakycon - say hi! :D_

_Liz xxx_

* * *

**Chapter 17 - The Discovery Of The Secret**

The men that entered the room were stocky and well built. They wore strange padded armour and all carried huge guns – that were now pointed in our direction.

"Stop right there!" The rushing wind outside almost pulled me out of the window. It would only take a second to jump – but we probably wouldn't have survived it. The train was going too fast, and the bullet would hit us first anyway. There was no choice but to surrender.

* * *

"So the rumours are true." One of the men said, dropping down his gun and sauntering over to us. "_Blaine Anderson has returned_. From the dead!" He lurched forward making us both jump so he laughed loudly and turned back around.

"Did these two really survive a Hunger Games?" He jeered. The other men all laughed too – their voices sickening.

"And it seems you didn't waste any time _reuniting_ with each other!" As the leader turned back to us again he eyed our scantily clad bodies. I shied away, moving closer to Blaine, but gripping my fists together.

"It's ok Sammy, you don't have to worry." He said, smiling at me. "It's not you we want."

* * *

Suddenly another figure walked into the room. He wasn't as fully built as the other three, dressed in the same uniform with a huge gun resting on his shoulder. For a second I wondered if he was the leader of the whole group, but then the others bowed their heads, confirming my thoughts. The man had only the side of his face facing me, but when he turned around I gasped. It couldn't be…?

"Sebastian?" He was a mirror image. Age had made his features a little darker, his skin more lined, but everything else was the same. The man laughed.

"Sadly, no." Now that I focused more carefully I could see the District 4 crest sewn onto his jacket - but these weren't Peacekeepers. They were rebels. "Sebastian is still dead as a dodo, thanks to your friend here." The man signalled to Blaine, who was looking down at the floor. I was still trying to process the situation. Was this Sebastian's brother? It had to be.

"But _you_ are _alive_! Alive and living again!" As the man took several steps forward towards Blaine I braced myself for a fight. If District 4 people were here, they obviously didn't have good intentions. They wanted revenge over their fallen.

"How is this possible?" The man gripped hold of Blaine's chin, yanking it upwards so my boyfriend let out a little noise and he laughed. "It must be the devils work. Or _true love_." He turned to look at me, flashing me an evil grin so I squirmed.

"Stay away from us."

"How did you expect this to work? Resurrect your boyfriend and sneak him back home to District 12? Live holed away in your little victor's house and nobody would ever notice?" I was eyeing the exits to the room, but they were all guarded. Who knew where Effie and Haymitch were – maybe they were dead.

"No secret can be hidden. And your _boyfriend_ doesn't belong to you anymore. He has debts to pay." Suddenly the soldiers moved forward. Two grabbed hold of Blaine, dragging him over to a chair that had been brought into the room, and the other moved towards me. I immediately went to duck his arms, trying to sneak under him but feeling his hands grip onto my waist and lock me under his arm.

"Not so fast!" He laughed. I wrestled against him, my body thrashing, and hit my arms against his sides until he pinned me to the corner of the room.

"Now now, no more fighting." He said with a malicious grin, shaking his head. "It's not you we want to hurt." Looking over his shoulder I saw Blaine struggling against the other two men, who were strapping him to the chair with leather bands. Sebastian's brother paced back and forth along the room, waiting for them to be finished, and then walked forward to stand just inches away from his captive.

* * *

"Looks like you don't have the strength you used to." He said with a grin, motioning to the constraints that held Blaine down. "Did all that time in the afterlife make you weak? How was hell?" Blaine said nothing, still trying to struggle and look in my direction, although the chair had been turned away on purpose.

"You know when Sebastian died, everyone expected me to grieve. _Jonathan Smythe_, twin of a fallen tribute, a constant reminder to his family of what had been lost. But I didn't grieve. Sebastian didn't die – he was _murdered_." Suddenly a knife was pulled out of Jonathan's belt. I let out a shout but the solider guarding me punched me in the mouth so I groaned and didn't speak again.

"Did you _enjoy_ killing him? Did it give you _satisfaction_?" The knife skated across Blaine's throat – I watched him squirm and crane his neck away from the blade. "Only heartless killers kill their victims whilst they're asleep – only _weak_ ones. Did you not think you could defeat Sebastian on equal terms? Were you scared your weaknesses would be revealed?" I grit my teeth together, wanting more than ever to break free of my restraints and cut this man to pieces. "I should kill you right now, watch you gurgle and choke in your own blood just like my brother did. But that is too kind a fate…" Without warning Jonathan dug his blade into Blaine's arm. The scream of anguish that followed made my whole body convulse – I fought the solider to break free but he only held me down faster.

"Does that hurt Blaine? Does it feel like you're _dying_?" Jonathan looked almost possessed, laughing madly as he tortured my boyfriend. I called out to Blaine, trying to get him to think of something other than the pain. Jonathan dug the knife further into his arm, dragging it so blood began to seep out and drip onto the floor. I struggled further, teeth snapping at the solider and my eyes wild with vengeance.

* * *

Suddenly there was another bang. Jonathan and the soldiers stopped, obviously not expecting the commotion, They went to speak, when out of nowhere Capitol troops poured into the room. The District 4 rebels were immediately seized, bundled away before they could even begin to protest. Spotlights shone through the windows of the carriage and blinded me, so I held my arm up over my face to see several guards untying Blaine from his chair and removing the knife. He looked to be pretty faint, so they dragged him to his feet and then moved towards me and the window.

"Sam Evans." One of them said, taking me gently by the arm and opening the window. Outside I could see a helicopter hovering above us, harnesses being lowered down and then attached around both our waists. "Come with us."

* * *

I awoke in a small grey room.

For a second I wondered if somehow everything had been a dream, if somehow I had been asleep this entire time and was now waking up in the Capitol hospital again, days after my Games victory. As I rose to a sitting position, I saw a glass of water next to my bed. I was still dressed in the same clothes I had been taken in, or lack of.

"Mr Evans." Suddenly a figure entered the room. He was obviously a Capitol official, and looked a mixture of solemn and amused when he saw me.

"Where are we? Where is Blaine?"

"You are back in the Capitol." The man replied. "You had to be evacuated here when your position was compromised."

"Where is Blaine?" I repeated. Silence fell over the room.

"Put these on." Clothes were handed over to me, a simple grey suit and white shirt. I took them gingerly and looked confused, knowing my question had yet to be answered.

"We go on air in five minutes."

* * *

Suddenly there were people everywhere. I was pushed and ushered around in my suit, not knowing what the hell was going on, or where anyone was. Where was Haymitch? Where was Effie? Where was Blaine? No matter how many times I asked, I was never given any answers, right up until the point when I was pushed onto a platform that rose upwards onto the arena stage.

* * *

"Sam Evans!" A man announced my arrival, but it wasn't Caesar. I saw the crowds and managed a wave, still completely confused as to the situation. The man beckoned me over and put his arm around my shoulder when I drew close enough.

"It's so good to have you back!" I managed a forced smile, trying to look around to see if there were any clues. There seemed to be an awful lot of Capitol guards around us – this wasn't good.

"Ladies and Gentlemen – I understand this a bit of a surprise, and thank you all for coming this evening or tuning in to our special national broadcast. But we have a _shocking_ announcement to make." The host, who I now remembered was Julliard Biggens, another Capitol journalist, hushed the crowd and changed the tone of his voice. "On the way back to his home of District 12, Sam and his team were _ambushed_ by rebels!" Gasps echoed around the crowd. Obviously this was now public knowledge. There was no way nobody would have noticed, it was probably breaking national news. I still couldn't see anyone I recognised – everyone was acting like everything was normal but I knew it wasn't.

"Luckily the Capitol stepped in to rescue out favourite victor," Julliard continued, "but in the process, an even bigger secret was revealed…" Suddenly I was turned towards a screen. The outline of a huddled figure could be seen behind it – it took only seconds to realise who it was.

* * *

"Blaine Anderson! Alive and well!" The screen dropped to reveal Blaine. Immediately the whole arena went silent. Blaine hadn't been given the flash clothes I had, still dressed in the jeans he had hurriedly managed to put on. The stab wound on his arm had been wrapped up and bandaged, but the redness still seeped through. As he held his arm up to shield from the blinding lights, his face was displayed on the huge screens – on every television screen in the country.

"Blaine Anderson! It's a miracle!" Julliard went to move closer towards Blaine – as soon as he let me go I went to run to him, but suddenly I was held back by guards.

"Hey! Let me see him!" I exclaimed, trying to struggle.

"Orders from the President. This is as close as you can get." Julliard put his hand on Blaine's shoulder, smiling at the boy.

"We thought you were all dead my friend! Did you deceive us all?"

"No." Blaine croaked in response. He had obviously been told to talk, even though I inwardly begged him not to. This was bad, _really_ bad.

"Then how on _earth_ are you alive in front of us right now?" The crowd were beginning to get a little more lively now, chattering amongst themselves in hushed serious voices.

"I was brought back." Blaine replied, his eyes still squinting against the light.

"By who?" Julliard asked.

"By Sam."

* * *

More gasps rang out. Several crowd members fainted, obviously overcome with the scandal. I hung my head, knowing everything had been ruined.

"Sam? Is this true?" Julliard turned his attention to me, his tone questioning. Now I knew why Caesar hadn't been included in this – there was no way he would have agreed to it.

"It was the Capitol!" I replied, desperate to get my story straight, and stop whatever atrocity was about to happen. "The Capitol offered me a deal – it was President Snow!" Now the audience were beginning to sound outraged, the guards held me back tighter and I fought tears in my eyes.

"_President Snow_? You think _President Snow_ authorised this?"

"Yes!" I shouted back. "It was all him! The tributes are never returned to their districts!"

"Well…" Julliard said, looking impressed. "Shall we ask him ourselves?"

* * *

Suddenly President Snow ascended from a platform onto the stage. The crowd immediately cheered, and my stomach dropped. Oh God. This was it. As the President walked slowly over to where we were standing I saw him eye Blaine with disdain, and then turn his attention to me. My blood went cold. I had never seen somebody look at me with such hatred before.

"President Snow…" Julliard began, greeting him like an old friend. "It seems Sam here is accusing you of offering victors some kind of resurrection deal – can you confirm or deny this?"

"There is absolutely no deal." President Snow replied. "Deceased tributes are returned straight to their districts and their families. Resurrection is against nature and is therefore forbidden."

"Then how do you explain this?" As Blaine was motioned to, I saw his resolve crumbling. He knew what was going to happen. Either he would be executed right on this stage, or we would never see each other ever again.

"I can't." President Snow replied. "It must be witchcraft, or some kind of clone. The real Blaine Anderson is in District 1 where he belongs." Lies. All lies. I wanted to cry out, to leap over and strangle President Snow right where he stood. But I had already done enough.

"Even if it is a clone, surely with two tributes remaining – the 74th Hunger Games is still live?" Would they make us fight each other? One kill the other, right on this stage? I shook my head, not believing it.

"No. We saw the ending of the Games. That much is clear. This is simply…an extraordinary occurrence." Suddenly I felt respite. Would President Snow give us pardon? Even if we couldn't be together, surely he would let Blaine live?

"But what about Blaine? Does he deserve to live?"

"Blaine is back. We cannot change that. To kill him now would be immoral and against nature." We were being spared. Managing a look in Blaine's direction I saw him smiling, relief across his face.

"So he will return with Sam?"

"No." My heart dropped. "Blaine is wanted for crimes against his own district. Now that he is alive, he can testify for these crimes. He is to return to District 1."

* * *

_No._

I couldn't tell who screamed louder – me or Blaine. Breaking free from my guards I rushed over, grabbing hold of my boyfriend and clutching him tightly.

"NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" As our captors rushed to wrestle us apart, I flung out my arm to knock away a few, punching one in the face and kicking another in the gut until I was overwhelmed and dragged away. My suit was ripped, my nails bloody and my hair ragged.

"NO!"

"Don't argue Sam." President Snow said, walking over and speaking directly to me. "You have committed a federal crime – you are lucky we are not prosecuting you."

"BLAINE CAN'T RETURN TO DISTRICT 1! THEY'LL _TORTURE _HIM!" I screamed. As my boyfriend was dragged off the stage, the Capitol crowds jeering him away, I watched in desperation as everything I had known slipped from my grasp.

"HE BELONGS WITH _ME_!"

"He belongs in his District." President Snow replied, utterly remorseless in his delivery. "And that is where he will stay. Just as you will."


	18. The Banishing Of A Traitor

**Chapter 18 - The Banishing Of A Traitor**

Nobody came to greet me at the station. District 12 was like a ghost town, everybody locked up in their houses. I still had no idea if Effie or Haymitch were even still alive – nobody had told me anything and the Capitol guards that had escorted me home had answered none of my questions. The car picked me up and drove me to the Victor's Village – as we pulled up outside my house I realised I didn't want to go inside. I never wanted to go anywhere ever again. The guard opened my door and I was forced out into the cold air. It was winter back here – it seemed fitting given the circumstances. I trudged towards the house, bags of my things being carted out of the car and along with me as I did so. My hand raised to knock at the door, but suddenly it opened before I had time to. Mother stood in front of me, Stacey and Stevie by her side. For a second we stared at each other, silence taking over the area around us. Then I stepped forward and threw my arms around her, sobbing into her shoulder.

* * *

Nobody mentioned Blaine for several hours. I guessed they were still trying to adjust – the live broadcast must have been as much of a shock to them as it had to me. The last thing of Blaine I had seen was his terrified face as he was carted off to District 1. He didn't even have any idea of the scale of the hatred for him. I dreaded to even think what they were doing to him – if he were even still alive right now. Eventually Mother came into the living room, sat down beside me, and spoke.

"What happened?" She plainly asked. I rubbed my already tearstained face and tried to come up with an answer.

"All I said on the stage, it was true. They keep the tributes. In a morgue."

"So Tina's…?" I nodded and Mother looked downwards in shock.

"And Blaine? Is it really him?"

"Yes. I saw it. They brought him back to life." A hand rested on my shoulder, rubbing gently against my skin in soothing circles. I didn't see how I could get past this. I had lost everything, only to have it reinstated and then lost again. The emptiness in my heart had doubled, now joined by cracks of heartbreak that would never be healed.

"Then it's…" Mother said, emotion bubbling in her voice as her other hand took hold of mine and held it tightly. "…It's a miracle."

* * *

Haymitch turned out to be alive. He didn't come to visit me and I figured he didn't have much sympathy for my case. He had warned me about my choices and I should have listened to him. I had brought this on myself. The news didn't focus much on what had happened – obviously wanting to forget and push away any doubt that might creep into people's minds over what I had said about the tributes and if it were true. Whispers still surrounded me wherever I went, but I tried to ignore them. Nothing really mattered now that Blaine was gone.

* * *

Sometimes I tried to forget he even existed. I thought back to what my life had been like before the Games, how I had been solely focused on studying and helping out at home, collecting wood and food. I blocked out any memories, the sound of his voice, the smell of his skin, the touch of his skin on mine. Sometimes I caused myself physical pain to forget, sometimes I tortured myself the way I knew Blaine would be tortured in his home. Often it worked for a few minutes, but then I would go spiralling back, the emptiness inside of me opening me up so I felt weak and exposed, howling in pain that couldn't be seen.

* * *

One day I decided to return to the mines. Mother warned me against it, saying I wasn't capable of hard labour yet. I ignored her and gathered up my things, walking out the door before she even had a chance to protest. As I made my way over I took a detour over the hills, lugging my heavy pack with me. The snow had continued to fall and it was almost calf deep – I trudged through it endlessly and felt the cold bite against my unguarded skin. Winter was unforgiving in District 12. Just like the Games, it picked you up and spat you out without giving you any chance to adjust, to survive. Many people died here during the winter, but the Capitol didn't know about that. They only cared about the dramatic deaths, the deaths that would give them the most views.

* * *

Suddenly I dropped my pack to the floor. This was stupid. I didn't want to be a tool of the Capitol anymore. The longer I lived, the longer they would continue to take things away from me. First my sanity, then Blaine – how long before my family went too? And Haymitch? Would he last once all my other sources of comfort had gone? If I died now, nobody would notice. Perhaps nobody would even care. But I would have control, I would have decided my own death. Falling to my knees I felt the coldness grow inside me. Cold, that's what I was. Cold and numb, to everything. This is how I wanted to die. I let my body slump to the ground, burying myself in snow and feeling the ice trickle down the back of my neck, closing my eyes and wishing for it all to be over.

* * *

An undistinguished period of time later I heard the sound of voices. Sharp, shouting voices, filled with urgency and fear. The world around me was black, so I figured this was my journey to heaven… or hell. As the voices got louder I felt hands touch my body, scrabbling away at the snow around me. Barely conscious, I let them haul me upwards, the world spinning and my body completely light and free of care, before suddenly the darkness overtook me and my head slumped downwards.

* * *

Beep. Beep.

I recognised the sound. It wasn't the kind of sound you heard in heaven. Maybe I was stopping off, maybe I was being sorted into good or bad. My eyelids felt heavy but I forced them open, my vision blurred so I could only see hazy shapes and bright lights. As I adjusted them I realised I was lying down, and that something was holding my hand, drawing light little circles across my fingertips. Immediately I lolled my head to the right and saw the outline of a person with black hair.

"Blaine?" I had made it. Death had brought me here and now I was reunited with my love. "Blaine?"

"Sam." Another voice came from my left hand side. Confused I tore myself away from the vision of Blaine and saw a hazy version of my mother staring back at me.

"Mother?" I asked. She was much closer, so I could pick out more of her facial features. My voice was slurred and I felt dizzy. "What are you doing in heaven?"

"We're not in heaven." Mother replied, taking hold of my other hand so I began to feel more of my body come to life. "We're in the hospital."

* * *

Gradually it dawned on me. The people lifting me up out of the snow had been rescuers – I'd been found and taken to the hospital, where I was now. But if that were true then…

"Blaine?" Turning my head back, and sounding a little more desperate now, the figure still gently caressing my fingers came more into view.

"I'm not Blaine." He said.

"Tobias was the one that found you." Mother said from behind me. I heard the sound of her footsteps and saw her walk around to join him. "He saved your life." My face scrunched up in anger. Pulling my hand away, my movements less co-ordinated than I had been expecting, I turned away from the pair of them.

"I didn't want to be saved." There was no immediate reaction. I imagined Mother was pretty shocked, and hurt, but I didn't care. My hopes had been brought up only to be dashed again. Heaven was where I belonged. I needed to be dead.

"He must be tired." Tobias said after a while, obviously speaking to Mother. I had closed my eyes and hunched my body into a curved position so they didn't think I could hear them. "You must be tired too. Go and get some rest."

"You haven't left here since he came in. Are you sure you're not tired?"

"I'll be fine. Someone needs to stay with him." There was a pause, Mother obviously debating whether or not to agree, and then I heard the sound of leaving footsteps and the door closing.

* * *

Why was he still here. Tobias was the reason I was still alive, he had found me and dragged me back to the living. He had brought my family here to guilt trip me. And he looked like Blaine. So much like Blaine. Just the sight of him was like a knife to my heart.

For a while there was silence. I was still ignoring everything, so kept my body still and didn't uncurl my fists or open my eyes. Tobias seemed to be equally still beside me, but then I felt him shift in his chair and place a hand on the bed.

"Sam… I know you probably don't want to hear this," he began, sounding tentative, "but keeping you alive needed to happen. I can't imagine what you're going through now, but your family…" He paused again, taking a few deep breaths before continuing. "…lots of people _need_ you here. We care about you Sam. And I'm just not gonna let you die." He finished, breathing deeply again. I kept my eyes shut, pretending I hadn't heard what had just been said. I remembered our conversation just before I left for the victory tour, what I had realised on the train. Tobias had gone looking for me for a reason. A reason that right now I didn't want to think about.

Or did I? Turning around, I saw Tobias looking a little startled. His face seemed so youthful, but there was that same curly black hair. Hair like Blaine's.

"Blaine…" Holding out my hand weakly I saw Tobias staring back at me, confused.

"Sam," he said, "it's me, Tobias."

"Blaine…" I kept repeating the word, reaching out my hand as far as it could go given my state. Eventually Tobias reached out his own hand to take mine, and I gently pulled him towards me.

"Blaine…" If I couldn't have the real thing, I could pretend. Tobias seemed a little reluctant to co-operate, pulling back on my hand slightly, but I kept up my grip as much as I could and finally he relented. Pulling him onto the bed I let him lie down beside me, avoiding all the wires plugged into my arms and chest. My hand reached up to wind in his hair, exhaling as I felt the soft texture – not quite the same, but good enough. When he realised what I was doing Tobias' body tensed up.

"Sam, I…" He said, but I ignored him.

"I love you. I love you Blaine…" Pressing my nose into his neck I held on tightly, needing the comfort so badly, even though I knew it wasn't the person that I wanted. Tobias still seemed tense, but slowly his body relaxed, taking hold of me and running his hands up and down my arms and back in a soothing manner.

"Sssh, Sam…" He said quietly, nestling his own nose into my hair. "I'm here…I'm here…" We lay together, not really saying anything, but clutching onto each other like we were the only humans left, until I eventually fell asleep.

* * *

"What are you doing?" My brain became alert, old animal reactions stirring inside of me, still present from the Games. I wanted to open my eyes and see where the voice had come from, but forced them to stay closed. Tobias shifted beside me. During our sleep our position had become even more intimate, and he had stroked my hair almost continually throughout the time.

"Wh-what?" He sounded sleepy. I guess he had been sitting there a while. The other person in the room walked rapidly up to the bed, their footsteps heavy.

"You can't do this! You're taking advantage!" I recognised that voice. He was speaking in a hushed voice, probably not to wake me, but it was Mike. Mike had come to visit me. He didn't seem very pleased however. Tobias moved slightly further away from me, sending a rush of cold air over my body that made me shiver and almost mewl, but didn't remove his hands.

"No I'm not! He _asked_ me to lie with him."

"_Really_?" I couldn't believe Mike was defending me. "_He actually said that_?"

"Well…no." The realisation in his voice was saddening. "I think he thought I was Blaine."

"Get off the bed." I heard the sound of a scuffle, and then felt Tobias be physically dragged away from me. For a second the loneliness overtook me and I let out a sound, reaching out my hands desperately for some kind of contact.

"See! I told you!" Tobias exclaimed.

"Shut up." When nobody returned I slowly opened my eyes, the room coming into focus gradually so I could see Mike standing over me, looking concerned.

"Sam?" He asked. I smiled, moving my head to face him and he immediately beamed back, pulling up a chair and sitting so he blocked Tobias completely from view.

"Hey buddy! How are you doing?" I wanted to talk, but the words wouldn't form themselves on my tongue. The only one that would come out made the whole room silent.

"Blaine…" Mike's face darkened. He glanced quickly over at Tobias, who looked guilty but still shrugged his shoulders. Maybe I was going mad. Maybe this was all I would be able to do from now on.

"Blaine's not here." My friend said, speaking very carefully so as not to trigger anything. "But I'm here, Mike."

"And Tobias-" Tobias tried to speak again, stepping forward and reaching out to place a hand on the bed, but was roughly shoved away and glared at.

"Go away. You're the last thing he needs right now." As the younger boy gave up and reluctantly left the room, I stared straight at Mike's forehead, not really for any purpose, just focusing my eyes on something.

"Where did Blaine go?" I asked after a while. Mike looked almost in pain, struggling to come up with an answer.

"He…" He began, his face scrunching up as he spoke. "He went back to District 1. To his family." Even though the information wasn't new to me, it still sent a shot of pain coursing through my body. My whole body convulsed and Mike gripped tightly onto my arm, holding me still.

"Sam…" He whispered. "There's nothing you can do. You have to stay with us… Hold on…" I jammed my eyes shut, silently screaming at the pain I couldn't handle or control, as the wind whistled outside.

* * *

I stayed in the hospital for about a week. I was never left alone – someone always perched beside me telling me a story or trying to keep me distracted. I enjoyed the company, but figured it was more to keep me in the land of the living than anything else. Stacey visited with Mother a few times, but gradually she began to come on her own. In fact, she was almost my most frequent visitor. That position however, was granted to Tobias. Mike furiously tried to keep him away from me, as did most people, but whenever we had a spare moment I would hold out my arms and he would crawl into bed with me, pulling us close together and wrapping our bodies around each other. I knew that part of me was selfishness personified – wrong in so many ways. But it was necessary.

* * *

One evening, when I'd managed to coax him in yet again, and could feel his heartbeat racing as I pressed my nose into his collarbone and wedged my fingers into his curls – desperately trying to pretend they were Blaine's – the door to my room suddenly opened and Tobias jerked towards it. It wasn't uncommon for us to be rumbled – normally this was followed with cruel hands jerking us apart. I would let out a cry and whoever had found us would say something stern at Tobias and give him a slap across the head. Anticipating the removal I clutched onto my friend harder, whispering Blaine's name under my breath as I prayed and prayed for him not to be taken away, for me to keep this illusion and stay relatively sane in the process. The entering person let out a loud sigh, walking over to the bed slowly, but to my surprise stopped at the side and simply spoke.

"You know it won't work." It was Stacey. She obviously thought I was asleep, so was speaking directly to Tobias. The younger boy shifted uncomfortably again, his arms moving slightly as if to shield me – almost like my sister was a predator looking to cause trouble – when in fact I would choose her over him in a heartbeat.

"What?" He replied. I kept my body as still as possible, but pricked my ears and listened carefully.

"He's not doing this for you. He's pretending you're Blaine." That was interesting. I knew many of my visitors suspected that I was crazy – that I actually thought Tobias was my lost lover. But Stacey knew different.

"I know you think if you wait long enough that he'll forget about him and learn to love you, but he won't. Maybe if Blaine were actually dead he might. But not now."

"Blaine could be dead." The words shot through me. For a second I almost jerked up, fastened my hands around Tobias' neck and squeezed the life out of him, but managed to control myself.

"You don't know that. And neither does Sam. You're never going to compete." The body next to me had become rigid, angry – but then suddenly it relaxed.

"I don't care." I felt fingers reach up to gently thread through my hair and almost wanted to bat them away. If Tobias wanted Blaine dead then maybe I wanted him that way too. "Right now Sam needs me. And I know it's only to pretend I'm someone else, but if that's the only way to get close to him…" Suddenly I realised. All the anger drained from my body, the desire to wake up and kill, to avenge. "He deserves to be happy. And if I can make him feel like that, just for a moment, I'll keep doing it. No matter what. I love him." Something wet dripped down onto my cheek, rolling down slowly and then falling onto the soft bed sheets. For a second I wondered if Tobias was crying, before I realised these were my own tears. I was crying, crying over a love I had lost, a love that I would never be able to return, no matter how hard I wanted to. I had failed another person.

Stacey sighed again. I felt a hand reach up to rest on my back, rubbing along it slowly and then squeezing my shoulder gently, before she rose back up to her feet and walked silently out of the room.


	19. The Announcement Of The Quarter Quell

**Chapter 19 - The Announcement Of The Quarter Quell**

A week and two days after my admittance into the hospital, everyone gathered for the Hunger Games announcement. As the 75th year of the Games, it was the famous Quarter Quell – the time every 25 years where a new twist was added to the Games for that particular occasion. Of course it was mandatory watching, so Mother had decided to hold the viewing in my room – bring everyone together and turn it into a positive event. Or cloud the fact that this would no doubt bring back old and harsh memories. As a victor I would not be allowed to leave the Games behind – I would have to become a mentor – working together with Haymitch to train the next two tributes from District 12. Or maybe the next four. Haymitch's year had seen twice the number of tributes selected. Maybe this year they would make it six. I had never really thought about the prospect of mentoring – maybe because I never wanted to encounter anything like the Games ever again. But watching this announcement would at least let me know what I was up for.

* * *

People arrived in spurts. Tobias was obviously first, seeing as he had never left the room in the first place. My family were next. Stacey entered the room first, immediately plonking herself down beside me so Tobias realised his place and moved himself onto the nearby chair. Then Mother appeared with Stevie in her arms. As soon as he saw me he immediately wriggled free, running over to the bed and then throwing himself onto it. I laughed, dragging him upwards and then enveloping him in a big hug.

"Hey buddy!" I said, rather like Mike had to me on the second day. Stevie had been a less frequent visitor to my bedside, and I knew exactly the reason for this.

"Sam! Are you feeling better? Mama said you were sick." Glancing briefly up and Mother I nodded my head, smiling widely and looking back at my little brother's innocent face.

"Yes. Much better. The doctors put lots of medicine in me." Who wants to tell their son that his older brother tried to kill himself? Who wants to tell him that he'd mentally ill – physically unstable? Yes – I was glad mother had kept Stevie out of this one.

Letting Stevie snuggle himself onto my lap I felt Stacey wind her fingers between mine and rest her head on my shoulder. For a second I felt completely comforted – in reality my family had been the only thing I had ever truly cared for before the Games. They had used to be the only thing that could put me back together. Now I had something else as well.

* * *

Mike was the last to arrive, and he seemed a little embarrassed about being late.

"Hi." He said, entering the room quickly but then stopping, as if he had forgotten something. "I…I hope you don't mind, but I…brought someone." Suddenly two other people appeared. Mother gasped, but then looked equally embarrassed and bowed her head apologetically.

It was Mr and Mrs Cohen-Chang.

I had barely spoken to Tina's parents since my return from the Games. Obviously they had seen everything, and heard me talk about her in my post-victory interview, but I had mostly opted to stay away from them. How did you talk to people who had lost a child? I couldn't imagine Tina talking to Mother if they had lost me, or Stacey. But here they were. I imagined Mike had suggested the meeting to them – as a way to get through the announcement together. It had to be just as hard for them as it was for me. Immediately everyone turned in my direction, obviously checking my reaction. I stayed still, still cradling Stevie with one had and clutching onto Stacey's with the other.

"Hello." I said. Mr and Mrs Cohen-Chang seemed relieved, even though they had no reason to be, and managed a smile.

"Hello." I could sense the tension as the three of them walked over – Mike trying to catch my eye and check that this was ok. When I eventually relented and let him relay the secret message to me I simply nodded. Who was I to turn them away? I wasn't a God.

* * *

We all settled down in different spots of the room, Mike turning the TV on and then shutting the curtains. It was about as big as the one in our Victory Village house, although a little more flickery. The hospital had about the most right to District 12s electricity as anywhere, but our home was still more reliable. Certainly before the Games we never even would have dreamed of a contraption like this. There were a few adverts – ironic when most people didn't have enough money to even feed their families – but then the Capitol seal appeared on the screen.

* * *

As the bearded face of President Snow came into view I felt a shudder of anger run through me. The last time I had seen him he had been condemning me – lying to his people and sending Blaine away to be tortured as a result. He must know I would be watching – was he happy? Was the smile on his face meant only for me? Stacey sensed my change in mood and shuffled closer to me, gently squeezing my arm.

"Greetings Panem." He said, introducing the segment to the thousands watching right now. "Welcome to the drawing of the Quarter Quell cards." The history of the Hunger Games was recited – the quashing of the rebellion and then penance everyone had to pay because of it. I sneaked a glance over at the Cohen-Changs and saw them fighting back tears already. They had done nothing against the Capitol. They had done nothing to hurt anyone. But they had been punished all the same. Next the president moved onto the Quarter Quells.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it." I had remembered the shock I had felt first being told this. That someone had been forced – not just to go through the stress of the Games – but to know that it has been _chosen_ for them. Something told me that if that had been my year, Brody Weston would have certainly taken my place.

"On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes." Suddenly my mind tracked to Haymitch. Where was he right now? Was he holed up in his house? Passed out drunk? For a second I wished he were here, that we could both experience this together – but had to push away my feelings.

"And now for this years Quarter Quell." On the screen a little boy dressed entirely in white walked onto the stage, a small box in his hand filled with enveloped. How proud his family must be – seeing him there in front of the world. Capitol families never had to fear for their children, perhaps only that their hair might not be cut in the right way or that their puppy fat would not drop away fast enough. They were desensitized. The President smiled at the boy, but it looked strange, unnatural. His had moved over, drifting over the twenty or so enveloped until it reached the one clearly labelled number 75. Suddenly I felt my heart begin to race. Stevie noticed the change in my posture and turned to look at me.

"Are you ok Sam?" He asked.

"Watch the screen sweetheart." Mother said quickly, turning him away and then glancing at me. I couldn't even pretend to smile. I was petrified. President Snow carefully opened the envelope, taking his time to the tension rose to almost unbearable proportions. Then he removed the sturdy piece of card and read.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest of them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors."

The whole room went silent. For a few seconds the words didn't process – did not show their true meaning. Then Mother fainted.

* * *

Panic ensued. Mike and Tobias immediately rushed to her aid, hauling her up so her body flopped like a doll in front of me. Stevie jerked upwards, a worried look spreading across his face.

"What happened? Mama?" I was trapped. Stevie was sitting on my legs, but even if I had been able to move I was too weak – still held in place by wires. Stacey had frozen next to me and I saw he face staring blankly forward, the life slipping away again.

Existing pool of victors. Only winners of the Hunger Games would compete this year. And how many victors had District 12 had? Three. Only two of which were still alive. Haymitch… and me.

Suddenly I felt hands gripping my shoulders.

"Sam? Are you ok?" Tobias was staring at me, shaking my body lightly as if to try and wake me up. I was still trying to process the sight of my mother slumped like a rag doll against the wall, Stacey self destructing next to me, Stevie crying on my lap. Looking and Mr and Mrs Cohen-Chang I saw their shocked faces – obviously not knowing what to do, what to say. I didn't know either. How was I supposed to react? Going back into the centre of hell – the same battle all over again. But multiplied. These tributes would not commit suicide like Tina, make stupid mistakes like Jesse, sacrifice themselves like Marley. They were victors – _killers_. And I would be one of them.

* * *

"Sam!"

"Let go of me!" My voice shouted out louder than expected, suddenly the room fell silent again. I could still hear Stevie whimpering so pulled him in close and wrapped my arms around him.

"Stevie – Mother just felt tired – the room is too hot so I think we should all get some fresh air." Everyone was staring in shock, I couldn't believe how calm my voice was.

"Mike." I said, turning to my friend and seeing him widen his eyes slightly. "Go and call a nurse for Mother." As he nodded and began to move off, I turned to Mr and Mrs Cohen-Chang. "Thank you for coming." I said plainly, already beginning to feel my old routine of protector slip in. The couple quickly rose to their feet, bowing their heads as they made their way out of the room so I could turn my attention to Stacey. Her face was white – all the coloured drained from it. I held Stevie tightly to my chest with one arm and hauled her up to me with the other.

"Stacey." I said, almost like I was telling her off. "Stacey!" Eyes flicked up to mine, eyes full of despair.

"Don't shut down. I'm here – I'm still here." Suddenly tears began to fall down her face, drops eventually becoming a stream, silent shakes becoming loud sobs as her face buried into my chest. As I rubbed her back gently and rocked Stevie back and forth I whispered the same phrase over and over again, trying to make it real.

"I'm here, I'm still here… I'm here, I'm still here…"

* * *

Nobody stayed in my room that night. Mother wasn't in a fit state, Mike was off sorting out the Cohen-Changs, Stacey and Stevie had to be taken back home. When Tobias walked back into the room he took one look at me and realised our time together was over – that I would never ask him to be Blaine ever again. And he left.

As I lay flat, staring up into the blackness of my ceiling – knowing that there was no way I would sleep a minute tonight – I thought about what had happened. I would return to the arena. With no female victors – did that mean both Haymitch _and_ I would have to represent District 12? Surely that would break the rules, but surely having only one tribute would also break them too. In his current state Haymitch would have no chance against the other victors, so I would have to volunteer for him if he was picked. I would have to take the stand and repeat the worst two weeks of my life all over again.

I suppose dealing with my family had made me forget the actual announcement. I had been so focused on keeping them together that I had inadvertently held myself together too. But how was I supposed to react? Cry? Break down? Destroy things? None of those would help anybody, and I certainly couldn't kill myself. That would leave Haymitch with nothing. Not that he had helped me recently. Maybe he didn't even know of the Quell, or maybe he had just assumed I would be the one fighting again and gone back to his usual business. I didn't know what to think anymore, what to believe.

President Snow had obviously done this to get back at me. It was too much of a coincidence that this Quell would fall the year after my victory. The year after I had attempted to defy him and resurrect Blaine.

Blaine.

* * *

Suddenly I sat bolt upright, my head spinning a little with the severity of the movement. If he was still alive that meant he was a victor. He was eligible for selection. If we were both selected…

We would be united again.


	20. The Training Of A Warrior

_Right dudeios - this is the last chapter I am going to be posting for the next 10 days or so, because I am jetting off to New York, Washington and Boston for a holiday! Sorry I can't queue my posts, but the story isn't left on a massive cliffhanger and I will have lots of chapters available to post straight away when I come back._

_Also thank you so much for all the wonderful and detailed reviews I have been receiving. It makes me so happy to see people involved in something that I have put my life into, so I appreciate it! See y'all soon!_

_Liz xxx_

* * *

**Chapter 20 - The Training Of A Warrior**

When Mike entered my room again the next morning he stopped abruptly. I was upright, my breakfast already finished in front of me and my thumbs twiddling as I waited.

"Hey…" He said, confusion spreading across his face. He'd obviously been expecting me to have relapsed – to be on the verge of death again, with nothing to live for. I looked across at him and smiled.

"I want to leave the hospital."

* * *

It took quite a bit of convincing. Mike immediately summoned the nurses, who looked at my charts and declared I was fit to leave. I was still nowhere near the prime I had been before the victory tour, but I was stable. Then I had to convince them mentally. Obviously my reasoning for leaving – the fact that I wanted to train and meet Blaine back in the Capitol – wasn't exactly welcomed.

"You don't even know if he'll be selected!" Mike exclaimed, looking like he thought the whole thing was ridiculous. "Technically he's not a victor." I knew what he was really alluding to – the fact that Blaine might not still be alive, but I ignored him.

"President Snow picked this Quell to get back at me. He's punishing _me_. And what better way to punish me than force me to fight Blaine again? It will be prime viewing." If Blaine and I were selected, the controversy it would cause would be phenomenal. Nobody would move from their television sets – nobody would blink. Mike seemed to understand my reasoning, but I could tell he was still sceptical.

"I still don't think it's a solid enough reason. Maybe in a couple of weeks…"

"In a couple of weeks all the other victors will already have started training. I'll be behind and stand less of a chance of winning." Hah. _Winning_. I didn't know why I was even thinking of that at this point. But it seemed an appropriate thing to mention.

Eventually the decision was made. I would return to my house in Victors Village. I would look after Mother, who had yet to recover from the shock of the announcement, as well as Stacey and Stevie. And I would train.

* * *

As I stepped back into the house I could feel the breath of several humans against the back of my neck. Checking on me. Waiting for me to fall again. I knew I had let a lot of people down, but I wasn't an invalid. I had managed to gain relative normality after the Games and I would achieve it again. Now that I had the thought of Blaine, I had something to strive for. As well as getting back to my family for the second time.

As I waved my guardians goodbye, shutting the door purposefully so they would know not to stick around, I stared around the living room and sighed. So many memories lay in this house. The fireplace where I had strummed my guitar and sang the song that had brought up so many questions, the cabinet that Stacey had stood by and reminded me of Marley. I was still for a good five minutes, taking everything in and absorbing it, using it to make me stronger. I could feel the weakness in my bones, my muscles fatigued and wasting away from days without real movement. Walking into the kitchen I searched around for some kind of food, making myself a sandwich. The silence all around me made me think nobody was at home – maybe my family had not yet been notified of my return. I knew they wouldn't be happy, but what choice did they have? It was my life. And I was choosing to live it.

* * *

The next day I was by the mines. Mike and I had managed to cobble together a training plan, using the heavy coal I had been so used to lifting before combined with basic weapon-like tools I would build up my strength and speed again. I was a little discouraged to discover that I felt tired simply from the walk to our site – something I would have scoffed at before – but fought to hide my struggle and focused on the task ahead.

"Ok…" Mike was not a trainer. He certainly didn't resemble any of the team that had worked in the Capitol training arena, experts in their craft. He was probably not much stronger at me, even at full capacity and he knew this. But he was my friend.

"What kid of things do you want to practice?" I thought back to the things I had practiced before my Games. Tina and I had shied away from the main combat stalls, but that would not be an option this time. And I could remember most of them pretty clearly.

"Target practice." Pointing to a wall I gestured to the chalk we had managed to obtain from somewhere and Mike nodded. Walking over we both began to draw circles, some smaller or larger than the others and wrote numbers inside each. When we had finished we stepped backwards, dusting the chalk off our hands and surveying our work.

"That should do." I mumbled under my breath. Mike smiled and then began planning the other things we would test.

* * *

As my strength grew we used more and more of our target wall. Firstly I aimed mainly for the large number 1 circle in the centre, throwing various different rocks at it and trying to hit the centre each time. As I grew better I moved onto the other, smaller circles to increase my accuracy. Then, Mike would shout out numbers randomly – I would throw the rocks and hit the targets in the correct order without missing any. Sometimes I had to do it turning around, sometimes with one eye closed. I started thinking about different scenarios – being unable to stand, losing a leg, an arm. Being held down by something, being in mid air. Soon my accuracy was so good that Mike suggested we switch to moving targets. And combat.

Both of us were a little sceptical of this part. Up until now my fighting had been passive – unemotional. Combat possessed the power to bring back memories, the anger that had turned me into the monster that had killed Kurt. Mike knew this too – he had _seen_ it – but he trusted me anyway.

"You need to be able to react quickly, to use your strength to your advantage." Scavenging some large wooden poles from the wood yards we used these as our weapons, sparring against each other. At first I found it strange – fighting against my friend. Occasionally another tribute would flash up into my head – Sebastian, Jake, Rachel – and I would either stop and lose, or do something different that brought Mike to the floor.

"You need to channel that." He said, after the third time hauling himself off the dusty ground. "Think of a tribute and channel that emotion." I let my hands drop down, tiredness creeping over me. I'd always tried to push the memories of the Games away, think as little as possible about the other people that died. But I supposed it might work.

"Who did you hate the most in the arena?" Well that wasn't hard to think of. I could remember the sewn on name tags displayed across his chest in an instant.

"Puck."

"Well pretend I'm Puck." I gave my arms a shake, bracing myself and trying to conjure up the image of my nemesis in my mind. The way his obscene muscles had flexed as he moved, the satisfied smirk on his face as he looked down at his prey. The way he had mercilessly slit Santana's throat…

Launching myself forward I lashed out, swiping my pole so Mike was taken completely off guard and had to quickly duck. I let out a snarl, gritting my teeth and slashing again, moving closer and closer with each stroke so eventually my friend fell to his knees and called out,

"Stop!" Jerking back to my senses I realised I had him pinned – my pole right across his throat, almost as if I were ready to slice it. Immediately I stepped back, feeling embarrassment creep up on me so my cheeks burned. Mike looked a little shell shocked, but as he hauled himself to his feet and gingerly took a few more steps forward he smiled.

"Now that's more like it."

* * *

I felt myself grow, day by day. Mother didn't like me training, but she could see how much of an impact it was having – how I was preparing. I saw her spirits slowly rise and tried to make use of the next few months we had together – possibly our last. Some way through the second week Tobias poked his head around the corner of the target wall and almost received a blow to the head. Mike was frustrated to see him, but I let him stay and carry whatever weapons we had decided to use that day back and forth with no complaints. He also served as a sparring partner when Mike was tired or injured – although he was much weaker and normally fell to the ground in under 20 seconds. It became apparent how skilled I was at killing – how easily I could get someone in a position to snap their neck or stab them in the heart. Of course I never did any of these things – but the ability was there.

* * *

As we walked back from another session I chatted to Mike about the new skill we had been working on. I had never been much good with a sword, but Mike wanted to teach me.

"You're good with the stick." He had said, "But you'd do even better with one hand free." Careers often chose swords as their main weapons. It was a sign of power and strength, a skill completely mastered. We were discussing the best grip to hold onto the hilt, when I looked up and saw Haymitch's house.

"Have you spoken to him recently?" Mike asked. I sighed, staring up at the battered house – uncared for and falling apart on the outside – rather like its owner.

"No." I felt a little betrayed by my mentor, that he had simply holed himself away and not even bothered to check how I was. Maybe he was even still unaware of the Quarter Quell, and the part he had to play in it.

"You should talk to him." Suddenly we turned around. Tobias had been struggling with some equipment, but he reached us and dropped it all onto the floor.

"Sam can make his own decisions." Mike snapped back – his patience obviously still noticeably thin with the young boy. I saw the distain in his eyes, the same emotion people had looked at me with, and Blaine.

"Surely he will know some fighting skills." Tobias continued, surprisingly unphased. "He did train all those tributes after all."

"And what good that did them." Suddenly I stepped forward. Both Tobias and Mike turned towards me, but I didn't look back or tell them to stop their bickering.

"See you guys later." I simply said, before walking up towards the house and climbing the steps.

* * *

I knew there was no point in knocking, so lightly pushed open the door to find it unlocked anyway. The room was dark and dusty, but the first thing that hit me was the revolting stench of decay. Rotten food, alcohol, mess not cleared away. For a second I wondered if Haymitch had died, but then I heard a sound and stepped further into the room.

"Haymitch?" Pulling up my sweaty shirt I covered my mouth with it to try and block out the odour – my eyes watering from the pungency of it all. My feet navigated the rubbish littered around the floor and moved towards a window – curtains half closed and casting a faint bit of light on a large wing backed chair. The chair was turned away from me, but as I heard the faint noise again, I knew Haymitch was behind it.

"Haymitch?" Holding my other hand up against the bright light, I peered round the side of the chair and almost vomited. Haymitch was slouched in the chair, vomit covering his chest and his hair matted and greasy with dirt. His fingernails were almost black and a stench omitted from him so vile I figured he couldn't have washed in weeks.

For a second I turned my head away, trying to compose myself and resist the urge to run as quickly as I could out of the building. Eventually I brought my head back and looked upon my mentor once more. Was this the man that had greeted me on the train? The man that had laughed and joked at Effie's expense, made shrewd remarks and witty comments? The man that had guided me and taken me on as a son? He seemed to have aged twenty years, and looked almost on the point of death. Immediately I brought my hands to his shoulders and shook him gently.

"Haymitch, wake up." My friend jolted, another trail of vomit spewing from his mouth so I had to lurch back to avoid getting hit by it. His head lolled to the side and his eyes struggled to open, squinting as they peered up at me to see who had disturbed him.

"Snnnrgh." I figured this was an attempt at my name, so shook him again and tried another approach.

"Haymitch, it's Sam. You need to wake up and sort yourself out." Suddenly he turned to the right, pressing his face into the wing of the chair and attempting to fend me off with one hand. Well, it seemed his ears were working. Resisting the fight, I pulled him towards me again, getting another waft of his disgusting smell and instinctively gagging.

"Stop playing around and co-operate with me!" I exclaimed, frustration growing in my voice. Haymitch let all of his weight fall, my body staggering as I forced him upright and then tried to lift him from the chair. I thanked Mike for the strength training, as I would never have been able to have done this before now. Eventually I managed to pull him out – a stream of what I presumed was either alcohol or urine dripping from him as he left – and wedged my head under his armpit. The stench was now completely surrounding me and for a second I wondered if I should call for help, get Mike and Tobias to help me. But I didn't want anyone to see Haymitch like this. This wasn't him. I had to get him cleaned up.

* * *

The journey upstairs was a long one. Haymitch was weak but put up a good fight, occasionally jamming his foot in a floorboard or gripping onto a doorframe so I would be forced to yank him away and dodge another stream of vomit or a slurred volley of words. I wondered if he even know who I was and if perhaps he thought this was someone set to kill him. Maybe that was what he wanted right now.

When we reached the bathroom my nose wrinkled up at the state of it. The tub had not been used in months and was crawling with bacteria – mould and a few bugs living in it. Propping Haymitch between my body and the rim I turned on the tap and attempted to wash away most of it – cringing as my hand slipped over the slimy substances. At least with its lack of use there would still be plenty of hot water. Once I was mostly satisfied with the state of the tub I picked Haymitch up again, hauling him into the bath. He let out a series of moans but I ignored him, turning on the showerhead and then aiming it into his face. The water was cold at first so he screamed and spluttered, but I kept it on him and didn't relent – even when hands reached out to try and grab me. After a while when I felt the temperature increase I began to try and wash the rest of his body – soaking his clothes so they could be peeled off. It was awful to see this – to have to undress and wash the man that had once held my life in his hands – but I grit my teeth and did it. Eventually he was as naked as I dared, and a pool of brown water lay at the bottom of the tub, slowly draining down into the pipes.

* * *

When he was washed, I was unsure what to do with my mentor. Obviously he was still drunk, and seemed to have passed out whilst I had been cleaning him. His hair was still matted so I left him in the tub and moved to another room, trying to find some kind of hairbrush. The bedroom was surprisingly bare – there was nothing in the drawers or wardrobe except a few suits and shirts. When I looked over at the bedside table I saw a cracked and unused lamp, standing next to a frame with a single photo in it. As I walked over and picked up the frame, I saw a picture of a young girl in it – probably only about 17. She had blonde hair tied up with a ribbon, a baby blue dress adorning her slender frame. And a beautiful smile lighting up her entire face.

"Ophelia." I murmured under my breath, before suddenly a shout awoke me from my thoughts.

* * *

As I burst through the door Mother looked a little surprised. She was sitting on the couch darning some socks for Stevie.

"Mother!" I exclaimed, my voice rushed and breathy. "Do you have anything for hangovers?" The expression I received was not one of sympathy. Explaining briefly I saw the realisation in her face grow and eventually she rose to her feet, rushing into the kitchen to try and cobble together the right herbs.

When we arrived back into the bathroom Haymitch was still clutching his head – the pain coursing through it obviously giving him great distress. Mother's eyes widened in fear at the sight of it, but I simply held out my hand for her concoction and crouched beside Haymitch.

"Haymitch?" I asked, my voice tentative but directed. "Haymitch you need to look at me. We have something for the pain."

"SAVE HER!" Haymitch screamed. "DON'T LET HER DIE! SAVE HER!" As I pulled his hands away from his face I saw his eyes screwed up in anguish, teeth biting down hard on his lip so he drew blood.

"Haymitch!" Wrenching open his mouth with my fingers I shoved the spoonful of medicine inside, jamming his jaw shut and forcing him to swallow.

"SWALLOW!" I ordered. "SWALLOW!" Haymitch fought against me, his grip surprisingly strong now, but eventually his throat relaxed and his head lolled to the side again, his eyes blank.

* * *

As I sat on the wooden hair by the fireplace, staring across at the sofa – I felt like I was twelve years old again. Staring across at the body of my father – knowing there was nothing I could do but forcefully willing it – willing for something to intervene and stop it. My hands were still dirty but I had no thought to wash them. Just gripped them tightly together into fists and dug my nails into my skin.

Mother appeared from the kitchen, her apron tied neatly around her front. I hadn't seen her wear that apron for months – I guessed that was a good thing.

"How is he?" She asked, looking down at the slumped figure of Haymitch. It had been her idea to bring him here – I had dressed him rather shabbily and we had carried him together into the house, me taking most of the weight.

"Still sleeping." I replied, my voice monotone. My mentor had drifted in and out of consciousness – sometimes shouting something out at me, sometimes gripping onto my hand for dear life. Now he had fallen into a deep sleep, but often jerked out on random occasions or made stabbing movements with his clenched fists.

"I've made soup." Mother continued, glancing towards the kitchen. "Thought that might be good for him." I nodded and she smiled, staring at me for a few seconds before returning back to her work. A part of me knew that I should have done this sooner – that technically I had left Haymitch to rot whilst I sorted out my own life. But I had needed to regroup – bring myself back together and rekindle my desire for life. I had been late, but not too late for my mentor.

As I leant back in the chair and thought about my training plans for tomorrow, I wondered what the rest of District 12 would be thinking. Obviously there would be relief – relief that no new person would have to be forced into such a terror for another year. But would any of them think about me? Would any of them pity me? I imagined some of them would, although I also imagined some of them would be glad. I already knew how to fight. Maybe I would be ok.

* * *

Suddenly Haymitch stirred. I leapt to my feet, almost too quickly – giving me a flashback to the Games. Striding over I knelt down beside him and watched his eyes slowly flicker open.

"Haymitch?" I asked, ready for the flurry of insults that were bound to come my way. My mentor looked around in confusion, his eyes red and blurry.

"Wha…?" He began, voice barely audible. "Where am I?"

"You're in our house. We moved you here so you could be safe." _Safe_. Where was safe now? Both of us were in grave danger – danger that only one of us would face, but that the other would have to guide us through. Haymitch stared down at his hastily clothed body, seeing his slightly less dirty fingernails and his recently combed hair. And he scowled.


	21. The Preparations For The Reaping

Yo yo! I'm back again! America was literally **amazing** and now it sucks just a little to be back in the real world, but back to business! The next few chapters are going to be key, so please let me know what you think :D

Liz xxx

* * *

**Chapter 21 - The Preparations For The Reaping**

For the rest of the time before the Quell, Haymitch lived with us. Nothing was ever said – agreement set up or contract signed. But he stayed. For a few days Mother and I had to wait on him, coax him back to life and get rid of all the decay and disease in his soul. It was tough – my mentor not wholly accepting the process – but eventually he relented. His drinking however, was something that could not be curbed overnight. Mother suggested we try cold turkey, but I knew this would only cause more problems. Haymitch was allowed to drink in his room, previously my room, or outside. If he brought liquor anywhere near the children he would be kicked out immediately. But he could get by. Eventually we reached a happy medium – Haymitch still keeping his vices, but building slowly towards redemption.

* * *

As we all sat at the dinner table eating breakfast, there was a strange silence over the room. Stacey had been less than pleased with the arrival of our new guest – especially with the state he had been in. We had fought over the decision, but Mother had backed me up and insisted that he stay. Everybody knew the sacrifices Haymitch had made to keep me alive, the way he had cared for me when others had not. My sister had grumbled, and for several weeks said nothing to our friend, but eventually things had settled to a quiet dislike. Stevie had no real idea who Haymitch was, but accepted him into the family like he was our own.

* * *

"Would you like some orange juice?" The question was simple, but brought back a distant memory from the Games. Something about a breakfast we had all shared in the home building. Maybe it was before training, maybe it had been the day of the Games. I couldn't quite remember, but immediately my eyes flicked towards Haymitch. He had recognised the significance too and we shared a smile between us. Mother gave me a look of confusion, but I simply shook my head and she went back to her eating.

"Yes please." I smiled at Haymitch's use of manners – something I had never really seen from him before now – and watched him take the jug from Stevie and pour the liquid into his own glass. The reaping was three weeks from now – Mike, Tobias and I had been preparing for a long time and I was now in the best physical condition I could be in. Haymitch had managed to pull himself together and would surely pass for a mentor again. There was still the chance however that he would have to compete.

"Do you want to come with us to training today?" I asked, halfway through a mouthful of toast. Mother frowned at me and I realised my mistake. Since his induction into our household I had started to take on many of the traits of my makeshift father again. Haymitch sighed, taking a bite of his own toast.

"Do I _have_ to?"

"It will do you good." Suddenly Mother spoke. Both Haymitch and I stopped what we were doing, turning to her in shock. It was very unlike Mother to participate in any of our conversations, mainly because they were usually too sarcastic for her to understand.

"Get you out of the house…" She continued, realising our surprise at her comments. Haymitch's mouth popped open and closed like a goldfish for a few seconds, before he turned to look at me. Was this an _order_? An order from my mother?

"What are you doing today?" He asked.

"More combat training. Mike found some metal pipe that we made into a sword – it's pretty good." Stacey and Stevie had gallantly carried on eating, but the rest of the table sat still, almost stunned. Haymitch cocked his head to the side, as if pondering a great question of life, and then nodded.

"Might as well give it a go."

* * *

As we walked up towards the mines, I glanced across at Haymitch with interest. Something had changed between him and Mother. They never really interacted that much, but the fact he had listened to her… I knew Mother cared greatly about her patients, and that she had worked tirelessly to ensure Haymitch's recovery. But…

"What?" Haymitch had noticed my gaze. I smirked, looking down at the floor and kicking a piece of coal that had managed to travel all this way down from the mines.

"You never agreed to anything that fast when Effie said it." For a second my mentor didn't understand the reference, then he scoffed.

"That's because Effie is an idiot."

"Still…" We walked in silence the rest of the way, until Mike and Tobias came into view. Although the training had been designed for me, the strength and skill of my two helpers had also grown significantly as a result. Mike looked almost like a tribute himself, and Tobias – combined with a head first dive into puberty – had grown into a chiseled and handsome man. Occasionally I found myself looking at him, searching desperately inside myself for any of the feeling that I felt when I was with Blaine. But it never came.

* * *

As the pair greeted me I saw the makeshift swords lined up against the target wall. Mike had made three, so that him and Tobias could come at me at the same time – like a group fight. They seemed surprised to see Haymitch and my mentor looked around with intrigue as we reached the site.

"Very impressive…" He murmured under his breath. I nodded at Mike and saw him turn to my friend, almost holding his breath like he was about to greet a celebrity.

"Hello Mr Abernathy." It was sometimes hard to remember that Haymitch was a familiar face on TV – being a mentor with District 12's tributes for years. Of course, many people viewed him as something of a drunken joke, but he _had_ won a Hunger Games. The fiftieth Hunger Games, with twice as many people. That had to garner him some respect. Upon receiving the greeting Haymitch's nose scrunched up in disgust – he picked up a rock and threw is casually against the target wall – watching it hit directly in the centre of the number 1.

"Oh _please_…" Tobias stared on, his eyes wide with wonder and fear. I hoped he wouldn't say anything to my mentor and thankfully he didn't.

"So, what have you boys been doing then?" Mike explained the purpose of the makeshift swords, and how we had been using them to recreate battles. A package had been sent to my door a month ago with tapes showing the different winners of the past fifty Hunger Games, so we had studied them and even recreated some of the battles – working out the best moves and practising them. Haymitch seemed impressed with our work, nodding his head and adding in little comments here and there. When we went to demonstrate he looked at me like a father about to watch his son compete.

"Let's see if you lost any of that fighting spirit." He said in a teasing manner, making me scowl at him and grip my sword even tighter.

* * *

I could take on both Tobias and Mike with ease, ducking and diving away from their shots and bringing my sword crashing down on theirs so the vibrations shook through their bodies. Occasionally one of them would make a hit, but I would respond with three more, pinning them to the ground and forcing them to concede. Eventually they became so tired it was too easy.

"Come on!" Haymitch shouted. I was currently battling against Mike – Tobias having dropped out to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down my forehead, almost blurring my vision, and a few light cuts on my arm stung in the faint breeze. Suddenly I heard a yelp, and saw that Tobias had been pushed to the side by Haymitch. He grabbed hold of his sword and launched himself into the fray, battling against me and Mike. Mike quickly realised what was happening and backed away so it was just me and Haymitch. I was surprised with the skill and power that my mentor handled the blade – maybe he had been practising in his spare time, or maybe reflexes didn't die even with years of slumber. I increased the speed and power of my lunges, trying to get into the zone again – the one that made me unbeatable. Eventually I made a twist at the right time and sent my sword hurtling towards Haymitch's gut. He let out an oomph and feel to his knees, winded.

For a second I felt the high of success – adrenaline coursing through my veins – but then I realised what I had done and dropped down beside my friend.

"Are you ok?" I asked, sounding concerned. Haymitch was struggling to breathe, but he pushed me away roughly and then staggered to his feet.

"Well done." He said after a while, looking up at me and smiling. "That's my boy."

* * *

Haymitch trained with us for the rest of the time – teaching us things we couldn't have learnt ourselves, honing my talents and pushing me as far as I could go. Like a father. I noticed he would occasionally join in with the fighting, but tended to simply focus on me. This was my fight. These would be my Games.

* * *

At home we focused on the tapes. Haymitch recounted previous winners - their tactics and skills. People that we had miscounted as only small threats he reestablished as big ones and I watched as tribute after tribute died on the screens.

"How can you live through this?" I asked him after a while. A boy called Laker was currently strangling a tribute with a piece of wire, the choking sound echoing through the room. Many of the victims in these tapes had been from District 12 - I couldn't imagine what it must be like to train people, only to have them fail miserably in front of you. Haymitch sighed, bowing his head and playing with the next tape in his hands.

"You don't." He replied. I nodded my head, seeing the tribute fall to the ground motionless and Laker raise his arms to the sky in celebration.

* * *

Winter turned to Spring. The snow melted away and leaves began to grow on the trees – small little green shoots that signalled the beginning of new life. My life hung in the balance, but I was ready.

I was ready for the reaping.


	22. The Changing Of The Game

**Chapter 22 - The Changing Of The Game**

The day had arrived.

I thought back to my emotions a year before. I had eaten breakfast, played with Stevie. Stacey and I had gotten into an argument and Mother had had to quash it. Now we all sat solemnly around the table, not saying a word. Even Haymitch held his tongue.

We all knew what this day meant. Today I would leave District 12 for the third time. I would travel back to the Capitol not to visit memorials and greet fans, but to compete. I would fight for my life again, fight for the chance to return back to my family and continue my existence for the second time. I had expected to feel some kind of sadness – a crushing despair that would grip hold of me and render me immobile, but for some strange reason it never came. My body was numb, but in a calming way. At least this way nobody was uncertain. Unless for some bizarre reason Haymitch was chosen at the reaping, everything would go according to plan.

* * *

Taking a bite out of my melon – a delicacy I had requested for this very day – I chewed on it thoughtfully, looking across at Mother. What must it be like for her? To know that her child was going away again, possibly forever? There was only so much luck in the world – what if mine had already run out? The fact that I wasn't phased by this, that the only thought present in my brain at this moment was the chance to be reunited with Blaine again, was a little worrying. But I pushed it aside and continued to chew.

"The car will come and pick us up at eleven." Haymitch suddenly said. There was a softness in his voice – was he showing compassion? I nodded, showing that I had heard, and everyone else simply stared blankly at the tablecloth. Stevie and Stacey were dressed in their best clothes, but both held plain expressions on their faces.

"You don't need to worry." I said, trying to break the unbearable tension and install just a little bit of levity to the situation. "The cameras will mostly be focused on me." Abruptly Mother let out a sound – somewhere between a gasp and a sob. My eyes flicked over and I noticed her eyes squeezing shut, her body shaking as she struggled to hold onto her spoon. Haymitch whispered something under his breath to her, and under the table I saw him reach out and rest his hand on hers.

* * *

As I dressed myself I looked in the mirror and surveyed my appearance. It was hard to keep track of myself – my body changed from strong to frail to sick and then strong again so rapidly I almost didn't feel like me. Certainly the broad shouldered eighteen year old that stood before the mirror today resembled nothing of the seventeen year old the previous year. Mother had commented on how much I had looked like father – was this truer now? Or less? As I straightened my tie I thought about how many people were going to watch the reaping. Of course there would be the whole of District 12 – but then there were the thousands of others too. This time we were the star of the show, there would be no-one that would turn us away now. I only hoped there were no surprises. Keep to the schedule. Keep control.

I walked back down the stairs, thinking back to when Effie had been standing at the bottom of them, leaving the trail of glitter that still lingered in the odd speck that had managed to avoid being cleared away. Mother and Haymitch were standing by the kitchen door – Haymitch holding onto her shoulders and saying something in that new soft voice of his again. I cleared my throat and the all looked up at me. Faces of the people that I loved. Kind, caring faces – filled with sadness and longing and a severe lack of hope. I knew that I was leaving them all, leaving them for something that I should be able to control, but couldn't. I was willingly giving myself up – but I knew that nothing else could be done.

"Are you ready?" I asked. Stacey ran up to me, throwing her arms around my waist and gripping on tight, so tight I thought she would never let go.

"I love you." I whispered, stroking her hair with my fingers and trying to remember how it felt, holding onto the memory so I could refer back to it in the Capitol. Mother picked up Stevie, walking over and taking hold of my hand, tears glistening in her eyes like diamonds.

"Come on. Let's go."

* * *

The streets were already fairly busy. You could sense the release in the air – the fact that everybody knew they were safe this year. I knew I should have felt angry, betrayed over their celebration whilst my family suffered, but I simply stared out of the window and watched their expressions twist and fade when their eyes met mine. As we pulled up to the stage I felt Stacey's grip on my arm grow tighter. Squeezing her hand I smiled and kissed the top of her forehead.

"You don't have to worry." I whispered. "You're safe."

* * *

We were escorted out of the car, Capitol officials taking us to the back of the stage, where I saw the figure of someone I recognised.

"Effie!" As she turned around, I was hit with the sight of gold – dazzling gold that almost hurt my eyes with its brightness. I smiled, familiarity washing over me in a calm and relaxing way, until I saw that she was crying.

"Effie?" Leaving my family behind I strode over. Effie quickly tried to hide her tears, but it was no use. Long streaks of gold ran down her face, so she looked like a distorted version of King Midas.

"Are you ok?" My hands reached out to offer comfort, but they were waved away.

"I'm fine." She replied, obviously lying. "Look at you, so calm and strong!" I realised her sadness was due to the reaping. Effie Trinket – self-absorbed and in love with the Capitol, desperate to be promoted to a good district and obsessed with manners – _caring_ about a tribute. Knowing there was nothing I could really do I simply smiled and watched her dab away at her face with a handkerchief. My family caught up with me and Haymitch stood by my side.

"That looks good on you." He said to Effie, a hint of humour in his voice. My friend looked up and I saw the distaste in her eyes, the emotion I knew so well, and laughed. Mother looked at me in shock, but I simply took her hand and squeezed it.

"How long till we begin?" I asked an official nearby.

"Around fifteen minutes." Glancing up at the screens, I saw the main square filling quickly, people filing in ready to stand and watch. Ready to see history being made.

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Effie's voice boomed out over the speakers. It reverberated around the square, sending an almost tangible ripple through the air. "Welcome to the 75th Hunger Games Quarter Quell reaping!" Gone was the river of golden tears – my friend was back into her act and plastering a smile across her made up face. I knew that, just like Haymitch, to many people she was a joke – a farce. I had thought that myself, but now I knew different. The crowds of people stretched out across the whole space, tiny little faces that I could hold in the palm of my hand if I wanted to. Mother, Stevie and Stacey had been taken to a special holding pen near the front of the crowd, given fancy seats to sit on with cushions and golden arms. Haymitch stood beside me on the stage, his face emotionless.

"Now as you know, this year is a very special Hunger Games..." I tried to pick out faces I knew in the crowd – there was Eddard Kingsley who I had worked with in the mines, Sophia Plaskett, who I had once dated. My eyes scanned for Mike, but he was lost in the sea of faces. Out of nowhere I rested on Tobias – his curly hair fluttering in the breeze as he struggled to hold himself together.

"So before we pick this year's tributes, let us remind ourselves of why we partake in these games every year." The video was played on the screens – the history of the rebellion, the strife we had had to endure and how we were still paying for it, even now. 'A reminder that even the strongest of them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol'. That's what they had said at the announcement. Nobody was safe. Everyone was vulnerable. As I watched the burning building be replaced by children dancing in fields it struck me just how much of a lie the Games were. There was no hope. No winners, no victory. In these Games, only the Capitol survived.

* * *

"So!" For a second there was a waver in Effie's voice – the cameras tracked close but she managed to hold it together. Suddenly I noticed the two huge bowls in the centre of the stage – one filled with only two slips of paper and the other covered by a blue satin cloth.

"As you know, the tributes for this year's Hunger Games are selected from the previous winners from each district." Effie read out the three victorious names from District 12. Nobody cheered when we were mentioned, but our faces flashed up on the screens, and I knew this was more out of respect than disdain.

"Our first selection will be made from the male pool." Effie walked over to the bowl, her heels clip clopping against the wooden stage as she moved. As she stood behind it I saw her hands shaking slightly, little ripples running through her sparkling golden wig. Glancing over at Haymitch I saw him staring out into the distance. Would he be the first tribute to ever be reaped for two Quarter Quells? An extra rule had been added to these Games that no volunteers would be allowed – that meant a fifty-fifty chance for us both. As his eyes met mine, I suddenly felt fear. Fear that my name might not get chosen, that I might not be able to live up to all we had planned for. Effie's hand dipped into the bowl, hovered above the two pieces of paper for a few seconds, and then selected one. She drew it up in a dainty fashion, took a deep breath, and then read out the name.

"Sam Evans."

* * *

Immediately I stepped forward. Relief washed over me – a strange emotion to be feeling at such a time. My face was plastered onto the screens and I looked up at it to see a strange calmness in my eyes. Mother had gripped tightly onto Stacey and Stevie, my sister burying her face into her shoulder so I couldn't see her anymore. This was the last time I would see them for a while, perhaps even forever. Effie came over and shook my hand, her lip trembling as she struggled to hold back another wave of tears. I gripped onto her hand tightly, looking into her eyes and showing I wasn't scared. This was how it was supposed to be.

"And now…" The shake was evident in Effie's voice now – for a second I was scared she would have to be taken off the stage and replaced by someone else. Silence fell over the square as she took a second to compose herself – then she picked up a placard that had been placed next to the second covered bowl and began to read.

"Now for the female pool. Unfortunately, District 12 does not have a female victor." I could sense the attention of the crowd growing – this had been a source of much debate, and much betting amongst the less moral of us all. "For this reason…" Effie paused, looking over at the bowl and then back at the card. "This years Quarter Quell tribute will follow the normal route." The cloth was lifted off the bowl to reveal hundreds of paper slips piled inside. The audience let out a gasp.

* * *

Suddenly the fear returned. The same format? That meant a whole new tribute. Someone who wasn't a previous winner. How could that be allowed? I went to step forward, to protest, when suddenly hands reached to grab my arm and pull me back. Haymitch looked stern but in control. Maybe he was just trying to cover his back – ensure that he wasn't picked. Or maybe he knew this was just how the Capitol worked. Ripples of unrest had begun to move through the crowd – suddenly everyone was at risk again. Mothers clutched onto their children, friends linked hands and eyes began to close in prayer. Why hadn't we been warned about this? Why hadn't we been given time to prepare? There was no way to stop it, but dissension fell on the square. Effie placed the card back down in its place and moved to stand behind the other bowl.

"Remember, no volunteers are allowed in this reaping." Nobody ever volunteered. The only people who had ever tried were those with a death wish. That's what these Games were. A death wish. For a second my eyes tracked the crowd, now looking for a potential team mate, someone that would join me and I would eventually have to kill if I wanted to stay alive. Effie's hand dipped into the bowl, searched around for a couple of seconds, pulled out a slip and then opened it gently. The collective inhale was felt around the whole square, everyone waiting for the name, the name that would change everything.

Effie screamed.

* * *

As she fell to the floor with a clunk, the officials all looked startled, rushing over and immediately beginning to drag her to her feet. Mumbles were heard from the crowd, confusion, anger. I wanted to go over but my feet were rooted to the spot. The slip of paper lay inches from Effie's now lifeless hand – its printed words too small for me to read. As more officials arrived to recover the scene, I saw one of them pick up the paper and run towards the microphone. He was obviously in experienced so didn't make any introduction – simply shouted out the name to everybody could hear.

"Stacey Evans!" He said. "Stacey Evans!"


	23. The Unleashing Of A Tirade

**Chapter 23 - The Unleashing Of A Tirade**

I had always thought that I had experienced hell. That some point in the Games I had reached a point so low, that if hell was my destination after life I would greet it with open arms. Pain, death and destruction were second nature to me, I was almost desensitized by it, immune. But nothing, nothing had prepared me for this moment.

* * *

The first thing I heard was a scream. Mother jammed her arms around her children pulling them in tight as officials suddenly moved towards the pen, towards my sister. The fear in her eyes was unmistakeable, visible and real. Then another noise sounded across the square. It was like a rumble – for a second I wondered if a thunderstorm had suddenly broken out of nowhere – then I realised it was my own voice. My body shook – violent shudders ripping through it as I tried to process what had happened. Stacey had been reaped. She was District 12's female tribute.

* * *

As I staggered forward across the stage I could see the shock across the faces of the crowd. Nobody knew what to do, what to say. In the history of the Games there had been many sibling tributes – sometimes spread across several Games. But this. This was different. As I reached the edge of the stage I saw the officials reach Stacey. She was still plastered to Mother so hands reached out to pry her fingers away, to remove her and bring her towards the steps.

'_**NO**_!" I screamed. Tears were building in my eyes and I jerked my hand out to wipe them away. As I went to jump off the stage and force the officials away from my family suddenly hands gripped me from behind. Other officials had appeared, perhaps the ones that had dragged Effie off the stage.

"Mr Evans." One of them said, the calm in his voice making my anger spill out of control. "Stay where you are please." Suddenly my arms lashed out. The official closest to me reeled back as the impact smashed against his face, probably breaking his nose. With half my body free I spun round and knocked out the second guard, then the others that tried to rush to their aid. The screams coming from my mouth were guttural and raw – the animal inside of me having been released. When there were no more guards to hold me down I turned towards the stage again, staring at the two reaping bowls. They were what had caused this. They were what had brought my sister to this moment.

"NO!" Stalking over I saw the officials nearby jump back, terror in their eyes. Grabbing hold of the first table I threw it over, the bowl smashing onto the floor and sending slips of paper flying everywhere.

"A FIX!" I screamed, moving to the next bowl and picking it up with my hands "THIS IS A FIX!" The bowl flew across the stage and crashed against the wooden floor, glass shooting out in different directions so people had to jump out of the way and the audience screamed. More officials arrived, decked out in their specials armour, and I fought them off, blood now streaming from my hands where the glass had cut me.

"NO!" Stacey had been captured, held tightly by two guards as she screamed and struggled, Mother being pressed down into her chair by more officials as Stevie was taken away, howling. As I continued to fight, I realised my sister was being held away from the stage – that it was too dangerous for her to ascend the steps whilst I was still there. My hands reached for a nearby piece of glass and I brandished it like a weapon, not caring that it cut me even more.

"NO!" Another guard came near me and I lashed out, the glass slicing him across the neck to he screamed and fell to the floor. Another guard tried to secure me but I stabbed at him too – for a minute I thought they were going to back away, but suddenly ten more appeared and I was overrun. Hands took hold of every part of my body, wrenching the glass weapon from my hands and pulling me taught, defenceless. As I screamed and spat in their faces, my eyes wild with hatred, despair, revenge, a large needle was pushed into my arm and I felt a strange liquid flow through my veins. As the drowsiness overtook me, the last thing I saw was Haymitch, standing alone at the side of the stage, his head bowed.

* * *

When I awoke I realised my whole body ached. Stinging cuts ran along my arms and hands, but nobody had bothered to attend to them. My face was covered with sweat and dirt, my clothes ripped and my face throbbing from where I had obviously been punched. I was on the train. I knew it as soon as I looked around at the scenery of my room, and felt the tiny, almost indistinguishable bump of the carriage.

* * *

Jerking upright I felt my head spin, nausea sweeping over me so I vomited right over the side of my bed. Forcing myself to my feet I staggered towards the door and found it locked, my hands twisting and shaking the handle aggressively.

"OPEN THIS!" I shouted, my voice hoarse and sharp against my throat, but still audible. "LET ME OUT!" Abruptly the sound of clicking filled the air and the door slid open. The Capitol official that greeted me seemed shocked at my state, but I ignored him and pushed past.

"Where is Stacey?" Lurching through the corridor I made my way into the main room. Haymitch was sat on one of the large chairs, a tall drink in his hands, and Stacey sat in another.

"Stacey!" As my voice reached her, my sister looked up, relief in her eyes. As she rushed over I held out my arms and felt her jump into them, crushing her body tightly against mine so my wounds hurt but I didn't acknowledge them. Her body was weak, her eyes red from crying and her face puffy. I saw several cuts and bruises on her own body but realised they had been seen to.

"Are you ok?" I asked, my first priority to establish her safety.

"Yes." Stacey replied, her face still buried into my chest. I looked around the room and saw Haymitch staring back at me, his face drawn and emotionless. I know the Capitol would have expected him to restrain me, to stop my fighting on the stage and calm me down. But he knew better than that.

"Why are we on the train?" I asked him. My voice was shaky as I tried to hold in the emotions coursing through me – the pain over my injuries, the relief that my sister was safe and sound, the anger over what had happened at the reaping.

"They forced us to leave. Right after you passed out they took us away without any discussion. We weren't allowed to see you." Suddenly I noticed the sadness in his eyes. Haymitch had stood back during my rampage, not just because he knew I would simply attack him if he hadn't, but also because he knew I was right. This was wrong. What the Capitol had done was wrong. Somehow the reaping had been fixed – they knew that I was happy to return to the Games if it meant I saw Blaine. So they had hurt me in an entirely different way. The sadness in Haymitch's eyes showed this realisation, but also that I was hurt. His son was hurt.

"Mother and Stevie…?" I asked. Haymitch's face scrunched up in anguish.

"They were taken away too." He said. "They didn't even…" Get to say goodbye. The last time I would ever see my mother it was through a sheen of rage. I had unleashed the monster, the monster that had always managed to get things done, and it had failed. Feeling my strength wane I began to walk towards the chairs, Stacey still clinging onto me for dear life. When I sat down she bundled herself up into my lap and dug her nose into my neck. How could they do this? Take the life of my innocent sister and destroy it? She had liked to think of herself as a fighter, a rebel once, but I had seen the frail ghost of a girl that had greeted me on my return home. The girl who had lost all hope and almost wasted away. How could they send her to a place like this? As I closed my eyes and tried to block out the pain I felt her heartbeat against mine, quick and erratic.

* * *

Effie did not appear for several hours. I imagined she was still being treated for her fainting during the reaping, doctors trying to revive her not only to continue with protocol, but also to find out why she had cared. Capitol citizens did not feel for the tributes. They might pretend to love them, laugh at their jokes, cry when they died. But then they were forgotten. Nobody ever held on, it was always on to the next, waiting for the next scandal that they would be able to talk about for weeks. Effie was suddenly and anomaly, and alien. A traitor? I didn't want to think about it, couldn't bear the thought of another person I cared for being tortured because of me.

When she did appear, she looked more than a little bedraggled. The make up had been wiped from her face, leaving her pale and weak. I had never seen Effie without any make up before – it was a little alarming. Firstly her eyes tracked to Haymitch, before she quickly switched her gaze and locked it onto me.

"Sam…" She breathed. I watched her totter over, seeing tears in her eyes even now. She went to hug me, but I pointed down at the hunched figure of Stacey, fast asleep on my lap.

"Oh." Effie stopped, suddenly unsure what to do. Then her shoulders dropped.

"I didn't know what to do." She said, her words quick and burbled, almost repenting. "I didn't…"

"You couldn't have done anything." Effie had had no knowledge of the plans. Nobody could have predicted what had happened, and even if they had – there would have been no way to stop it. President Snow had begun his campaign against me, and so far he was definitely succeeding. Effie sniffed, wiping her face with her whole hand now that she didn't have to worry about her make up, and sat down on a nearby chair. Nobody could think of anything to say. Nobody could think of a way to make this ok. As Stacey slept soundly on my lap, I reached up my dirty, bloody fingers to run them through her hair, closing my eyes and trying to pretend this was all a dream.

* * *

Eventually someone arrived to clean me up. I was force into the shower, scalded by burning hot water as my body was scrubbed and buffed. I knew I should feel a little humiliated that people were having to wash me, to see me naked and weak. But I didn't care. I had been a puppet of the Capitols for a long time now – I barely even noticed it. Once I was dressed in a batch of new clothes – the shirts seemingly bigger than the ones I had been given on my last journey to the Capitol, but still tight around my chest – I was escorted to the dining room, where dinner was served. Effie had regained her composure and the make up on her face, Haymitch had yet another drink in his hands, and Stacey sat silently, staring emotionlessly at the array of food before her. As she registered my presence she jumped up again, running over and throwing her arms around me. Apparently it had been a struggle to get us apart – guards had almost had to restrain her, which had made me smile for a second when I had been told. Now however, I realised that I was the only thing she had left. Guiding her over to the table I let her sit on my lap, the memory of Blaine doing the same as I had wiped cream off his lip making my gut twist and tighten. The food did smell good, and I was hungry. I didn't know how long I had been unconscious in my room, but I imagined it had been a while. Casting my eyes briefly around the room to check for any signal, I picked up a plate and began to fill it.

I supposed in reality this journey would be easier for me. I knew what to expect – I was familiar with the Capitol food, the Capitol technology – it was almost second nature. To Stacey everything would be new and frightening. Seeing her watch my hands move to the different plates of food, she waited until I had filled and settled it down in front of us, before reaching out her hand and carefully picking up a piece of bacon. It was her favourite – I had chosen it specifically for that reason. As she chewed slowly I picked up my knife and fork and began to cut up other dishes into bite-sized pieces. Effie began to fill up her plate, but I saw her watching me with careful eyes. It was as if at any moment they expected me to explode – flip the table over and start attacking everyone. I wanted to do those things – to grab Stacey and jump off the train, run away and never see anyone again. But I didn't. Those things would only get more people killed.

* * *

We ate in silence, Haymitch taking only a few pieces of fruit and dropping them into his drink. When he had drained the glass he let the soft chunks fall into his mouth and chewed on them slowly. The squelching noise echoed around the room.

"We will arrive in the Capitol in around three hours." Effie said, after what seemed like forever. She had obviously returned to organising – possibly her way of coping with the situation. Stacey turned to look at me, questions in her eyes.

"What's it like?" She asked. "The Capitol?"

"Big." I replied, trying to smile as I scooped up another mouthful of eggs with my fork. "And fancy." I wanted to say scary, alien, but didn't think that would help.

"Like the Justice Building?" Stacey asked again. For a second all the adults looked at each other, trying to process the question. Then we all laughed.

"Stacey, the Justice Building would barely be a speck on the map in the Capitol." I replied. Stacey's eyes widened, amazement filling her face, and I squeezed her shoulders.

"When we get there they'll obviously be all the press. We should be able to get you moved on to the stylists pretty quickly, but you'll still have to take a few photos." Suddenly I remembered Cinna. He would still be at the Capitol. Would he be my stylist again? Would Stacey have Portia? The thought was comforting – we could trust Portia and Cinna. Maybe they wouldn't do so much to Stacey, she was pretty enough anyway. Although she still looked tired and upset. I began to track through the events in my head – the styling, the parade, the tribute interviews, and the training – when suddenly I remembered something.

"Have they announced the results of the other reapings yet?" I asked, trying to make my voice as nonchalant as possible. Haymitch frowned, knowing exactly what I meant.

"No." He replied, reaching for another piece of orange and stripping off the peel. "They have kept the results a secret for the other districts this time." I wondered why. As the train drew closer to the Capitol I held Stacey tight and hoped she would eat well today. We had a long day ahead of us.


	24. The Return Of The Heroes

_Hey again! I'm back at work so updates are gonna be a little more infrequent, but I will try my hardest._

_If you would like a sneak peek at some of the tributes that will be competing in the 75th Games, I will be posting an extra chapter that should have been included earlier in the story on my tumblr blog, seblamistheword pretty soon. Let me know what you think!_

_Liz xxx_

* * *

**Chapter 24 - The Return Of The Heroes**

By the time we drew closer to the Capitol, Stacey and I were in the bedroom. We were supposed to have separate ones, but mine stunk of vomit, and Stacey couldn't be alone at this point anyway. As the grand buildings came into view, I took her to the window. Everything seemed so familiar to me now, but I remembered how I had felt when I had first seen it. Shocked. Amazed. Stacey looked on in wonder, standing on her tiptoes to get the best view.

"Wow." She whispered. As we came into the station, suddenly the view became that of a crowd. Thousands had gathered at our station – hundreds more than last year. We were the scandal, we were the celebrities. Stacey's eyes widened as she gazed upon the strange people – her hand rose up to wave but I quickly shut the curtains and moved away, ready to move to the main carriage and prepare for our entrance.

"Do those people want to see us die?" Stacey asked. The question caught me completely off guard – for a second I was completely frozen, but managed to get out a reply.

"No." I said. "They want to see us fight."

* * *

As we stood by the main doors Effie briefed us on what we would do. I had done this before, so let the information wash over me, but Stacey nodded her head profusely and gripped hold of my hand. I had only one task for the next few minutes – keep her safe and get us away.

* * *

As soon as the doors opened it was like a tirade. Immediately we were blinded with flashes – cameras going off in every direction so I was forced to hold up my hand and block them out. Stacey's body went rigid with fear beside me, I pulled her along and tried to stay calm, tried not to show any kind of emotion that would be displayed all over the tabloids the following morning.

"Sam! Stacey!" Voices called – voices that I didn't recognise or want to respond to. "Look over here!" As we pushed through the crowds I saw hands reaching out to try and grab my sister, pull her into a better light. My brotherly senses went into effect – quickly my teeth bared and I stepped forward, making the unfortunate journalist lurch back in fear.

"Come on Sam." Haymitch said quickly, before I had any time to say something threatening or take my actions any further. As we walked on Stacey drew herself closer to my body – I let my arm wrap around her shoulders and guided her away towards the main building.

* * *

When we arrived there were several Capitol officials waiting to greet us. The large hall seemed even more imposing than it had before, the ceiling stretching up so my eyes squinted to see the patterns on the top. Stacey was still superglued to my body, and I fixed my gaze on any person that looked her way.

"Greetings!" One of the officials said, their voice light and cheery, like I remembered it from the first time I had been here. "Welcome to the Capitol!" Nobody made any reply, but the officials didn't seem phased. For a second I glanced around, wondering if something was going to happen, then suddenly people stepped forward towards us.

"Are you ready to see your stylists?" One of them asked me. Suddenly I realised what they meant.

"Stacey..." I said, crouching down and prising my sister's chin up towards mine. "Stacey, they're going to take you away now." I watched her eyes widen, flick quickly to the man beside us, who wasn't exactly helping with the sickly expression on his face, and then back to me. "They're going to take you to your stylist and she will prepare you for the opening ceremony. Don't worry, you'll see me soon – Portia is really nice."

"No!" Stacey replied, clutching onto me for dear life. "Don't leave me Sam!"

"I'll be back before you know it, don't worry." My attempts at comfort were useless, Stacey was panicking and there was nothing I could do about it. I knew there was no danger, but all she saw was unfamiliar faces - enemies who were taking her away.

"Don't let them take me! Stop them Sam! STOP THEM!" As I watched her being carried off, her voice still resonating against the walls as she shrieked and fought, I felt all the resolve I had built up inside me crumble away.

* * *

As soon as I stepped into the stylist room, Cinna was waiting for me. My prep team hadn't had to do much work, so I had walked through relatively unscathed and still clothed. When we saw each other nothing was said – we simply walked into each other's arms and embraced.

"I didn't want to see you again." Cinna said after a few seconds. I could feel the tears dripping down my face and wiped my face to clear them away.

"Neither did I." I replied. As we drew away a soft laugh echoed between us, but it was hollow.

"Your sister…" Cinna whispered, almost not wanting to utter the words. "How is she?"

"When they took her away she was screaming." I answered. "She doesn't know anything about this… she…" Another wave of tears threatened to overthrow me, I bent over and Cinna wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"What the Capitol have done is _wrong_." He said, making sure the intent in his words was clear. "Everyone knows that. Even the most unfeeling of us. But we will make it right. We will get through this." I thought about the Gamemakers, sitting up in their little balconies discussing what a triumph these Games would be. What controversy and drama they had already cause, how the whole nation would be glued to their seats, unable to tear their eyes away. Then I thought of our leader, that smug smile on his face as he pulled the envelope from the box – knowing what it meant and what it would mean for me and my family.

"If there is an uprising." I said, straightening my back and running my hands through my hair to try and establish normality. "I want to be the one to kill President Snow." Cinna smiled, moving over to the rack of clothes to begin his work.

"I'm sure you will."

* * *

As I returned to the home building, punching the button on the familiar elevator and watching the scenery whoosh by me as I ascended, I wondered how things had ended up like this. How things could have gotten so bad that President Snow would pit my own sister against me – that I would be forced to protect her whilst knowing that only one of us would survive. How he could do that to Mother, how he could do that to anyone. Then I realised that President Snow was not an ordinary person. He was a monster.

* * *

The elevator reached the top floor and the doors opened. I was surprised to see the whole apartment completely changed. Decorators had obviously decided to spruce the place up a bit, and it looked even more lavish than before.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Effie exclaimed, suddenly appearing out of nowhere to greet me. "I imagine they decided a change was good." I had to admit, as I walked inside it was nice not to see the same scenes again. Too many memories already lived in this building – at least now I could try and pretend that was somewhere else. The furniture was still arranged in a similar way, so I looked over to the sitting area to see Haymitch already perched on a couch.

"Where is Stacey?" I asked.

"Still with Portia." He replied. I knew her consultation session would have taken longer, so moved to sit down and wait for her, when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Sam!" Haymitch said, his voice suddenly rushing as I turned around and moved towards it. "You have to know-"

"-One second." I interrupted, concentrating on holding the handle. Stacey would no doubt be distressed, I needed to be able to hold myself together to protect her.

"Sam!" The door slid open and I came face to face with Blaine.

* * *

For a second I didn't know what to do. Shock paralyzed my whole body, made me like a statue, unable to move. Blaine seemed tired, like he had been running from something, and his expression was a little panicked. I was about to say something, when abruptly he slammed the door shut behind him and leant back against it.

"I'm not supposed to be here," He said, words all in a rush. "They'll be hell to pay if they find out." For a second I tried to process the words, realise that Blaine had come to find me, reunite us again – but then I noticed his appearance. I had expected to see less of the boy I had left. I had expected to see him worn and tired. But nothing prepared me for this. The Capitol stylists had obviously attempted to repair most of the damage – applying lotions to his skin and make up on his face. But the boy before me was hollow, broken. Large rope burns twisted round his wrists, his cheekbones jutted out and his limbs were frail. Even his signature hair, the thing I had clung onto with Tobias and stroked endlessly, seemed limp and lifeless. The thing that struck me the most however, was the deep, dark letter T that had been branded onto his forehead. For a second I was unable to breathe, unable to believe that this could happen to such a wonderful person. Then Blaine looked at me with happiness in his eyes.

* * *

"_Sam_…" We threw our arms round each other. I was scared Blaine would break, but he clung onto me like his last breath. The difference in our size was astonishing now – he had obviously not prepared for the Games the way I had. He had obviously not been fed properly either. When we broke our bodies apart slightly Blaine pressed his lips to mine, fierce and passionate. I responded, but then felt the sharpness of his bones and was forced to pull away.

"What did they _do_ to you?" I exclaimed in horror, feeling tears build in my eyes yet again. Blaine seemed at war with me, his eyes wanting to forget what we were talking about and simply kiss me instead.

"What do you expect?" He replied. "I am a traitor." Traitor. That was what the T had stood for. District 1 had hated their tribute so much, that they had decided to brand him, make him like cattle. I felt sick.

"Sam!" I turned away, unable to cope with what was in front of me. Blaine's voice seemed desperate and his bony fingers clawed at my arms.

"Sam!" He pleaded. "Don't leave me! I know I am disgusting but-" Violently I turned around, anger and despair now written across my face.

"You are not disgusting! _They_ are disgusting! I want to _KILL_ them! I want to _KILL_ them!" I could feel my rage spilling out of control, rage against the people who had betrayed their own kind, who had turned into monsters that destroyed their own children. Creations of President Snow, demons… My whole body shook and Blaine struggled to contain me, eventually Haymitch had to step in and I felt protective hands on my shoulders.

"Sam." He whispered, calm but firm. "Calm down Sam." I tried to breathe, the air coming out in vicious snorts as I thought about what I wanted to do to those people, how I would slowly slit their throats and watch them bleed out, gurgle in their own blood.

"Sam, I'm here." Blaine suddenly said, reaching out a hand to take hold of mine again. "I may not be who I was, but I'm here and I'm alive. _With you_." Suddenly I realised. District 1 could torture Blaine all they wanted. They could sling him up and taunt him, make him be their tribute so they could watch him die. But they could never stop him loving me. People could torture me – they could rip out my eyes and my tongue and my ears – but they could never stop what I felt. What _we_ felt. I looked back at Blaine, suddenly feeling relief course through me. He was here. He was alive. We were together.

"I love you." I said, stepping forward from Haymitch and feeling the emotion bubble in my voice again. "I love you." We kissed, softer and more earnest this time, Blaine wrapping his hands behind my neck and pulling us in close, before the door sounded again.

* * *

"Get Blaine away," Haymitch said quickly, his face setting into a scowl. Quickly running over to a table we hid ourselves underneath it, heartbeats growing.

"Can I help you?" Haymitch asked as he opened the door. Blaine had frozen with fear – it was obvious people had come to search for him.

"Where is he?" The voice replied. It sounded harsh, almost like a robot.

"Where is who?" Haymitch answered as nonchalantly as he could.

"You know who. _Blaine_." Beside me I felt Blaine completely tense. As he clutched onto my shirt I was reminded of Stacey – no, _Stevie_. Was this what he had been reduced to? A frightened eight year old?

"This isn't his floor. Blaine isn't here." Haymitch was standing his ground. I closed my eyes and prayed this would work, that somebody else I loved wouldn't be punished for this.

"Give it a rest. We know he's here." The District 1 mentor must have tried to force her way through, Haymitch reached out his arm and blocked the doorway.

"Neither of our tributes have returned yet. You'll find nothing."

"I'd like to see that for myself."

"I hope you are not accusing me of_ lying_, as I figure your district has suffered quite enough scandal without adding false accusations to the list." The retort made us all stop. The District 1 mentor was shocked, stepping back with her eyes wide. Blaine seemed too scared to listen to what was being said and I was glad.

"_How dare you…_" She muttered under her breath. Haymitch smiled, removing his arm from the doorframe.

"I dare very much. Now if you'll excuse us, I have to prepare a strategy for how my district is going to beat yours. _Again_." The door was slammed shut, Haymitch turned around with a satisfied grin on his face and I sighed.

"All gone."

* * *

For the next half an hour or so, everything felt relatively normal. Stacey took much longer in her consultation so Blaine and I were given time to catch up. It seemed strange for us to be together again – almost as if the time apart had made us closer, but also further away. Blaine was still the same person, but District 1 had changed him. Layers had been stripped away, layers that not even I could replace. As we sat together, bodies entwined as we chatted about trivial things and things that were almost too hard to bear, I wondered what would be next in our story.

* * *

"You seem well." Blaine said, running his hand through my hair and sighing wistfully. My health compared to his made me feel awkward, like I hadn't suffered enough.

"Mike helped me train." I said, before realising he wouldn't know who Mike was. "My friend from home."

"Oh." He tried to hide it, but the faint trace of jealousy was still there.

"Things were bad before though." I continued, trying to divert the conversation away from boys. "Pretty bad." Telling Blaine about my attempt on my life would do nothing to comfort him, so I kept it quiet. Secrets were only bad if they were malicious. Blaine ran his hands down my muscled arms, almost as if he were trying to savour the sensation.

"I knew you would get through." He said quietly, closing his eyes as he spoke. "That's why I held on." As he swallowed, I saw his Adams apple move, the ripples travelling right down his throat to his frail chest.

"Did you know…? What was going on…?" I was hesitant, but Blaine simply squeezed my hand, still keeping his eyes shut.

"Not much. Sometimes they told me things about you. Lies. That you were dead." My breath caught, seeing the anguish in his expression. "They told me President Snow had killed you, and your entire family. They said you squirmed as you died, and that they had wanted me to watch." A few tears squeezed from Blaine's eyes, dropping down his face towards the floor. I caught them with my lips as I kissed his cheek.

"I…I didn't believe them." He continued, now struggling to even get the words out. "I knew that you were still alive. I would have felt it, if you had gone. I would have known…" My hands shaking, I stroked his hair, taking hold of his fingers with the other one and tracing little circles into the tips, our sign to each other.

"I'm here." I said softly, feeling his erratic breath against my face. "I love you and I'm here." Our foreheads pressed together, noses gently touching and the thrum of energy radiating between us.

* * *

When Stacey eventually appeared I expected her to be surprised. I expected her to be angry – that Blaine had taken me away and made me cry. To my surprise, after standing by the doorway for a few seconds, looking at us for a few seconds with her new hair and beautifully painted nails, she ran over to my boyfriend and threw her arms around him.

"You're here." She said, relief in her voice. Blaine seemed surprised, gingerly holding onto her back as she pressed her nose into his hair and whispered.

"Now you can bring my brother back."


	25. The Introduction Of The Victors

_Back again!_

_I have posted an extra chapter of this fic on my tumblr blog, seblamistheword, so check it out if you wish :)_

_Thanks for sticking around_

_Liz xxx_

* * *

**Chapter 25 - The Introduction Of The Victors**

All of us sat together to watch the reapings. Now that all the tributes had arrived, it was deemed 'safe' to broadcast the results to the other districts. The attempt to keep Blaine and I apart had been futile, but they had tried. I was reluctant to give up my protective hold on Blaine, but he insisted that Stacey sit in my lap again. As I discussed and complimented her nails, her telling me stories of Portia and how nice she really was, I felt arms slip around my waist and leant back into the touch.

* * *

Haymitch seemed very interested in the events so sat right near the screen, nodding and making notes when each one was revealed. Blaine's reaping brought a shiver down my spine – he was presented in chains and the audience booed and jeered when his name was called. Turning towards him, I saw the pain in his eyes, the memories of his torture, and kissed his hand gently. The other girl from his district seemed a little put out to have to share the space with him, but she looked strong.

"Lydia." Haymitch said, obviously thinking back to the tapes we had watched. "She won her Games three years ago. A desert wasteland."

The District 2 reaping saw two of the most powerful looking tributes I had seen. Both with dark skin, their eyes seemed alive with fire, ready to kill. The male tribute I knew was called Titus, but the female I imagined had only ever appeared in my nightmares. Districts 4 and 5 brought four similar looking tributes to the stage. Linus had won his Hunger Games by drowning his opponents in deep water, Felicity – or 'Fizz' as she was commonly known – had electrocuted them. Hunter, from District 8, seemed a similar age to me, having won his Games when he was just fourteen, but Jethro and Camille from District 11 were both in their forties. As more and more faces flashed across the screens, more memories of victories, of maulings and massacres filled my brain – I began to realise the monstrosity of the task ahead of me.

* * *

As my face flickered onto the screen, everyone went silent. We all knew what was coming, what we would have to witness. As my name was called I noticed Haymitch's face waver slightly. Was that relief? Or anguish? Glancing over at his present face I saw no change, but knew something had stirred in his brain. Effie's meltdown was made out by the commentators to be comedic – they treated her like a ditzy young woman, overcome by the success of her district. When the second bowl was revealed everyone gasped and discussed they controversy this would bring, how the newly selected tribute would be at a severe disadvantage to the others. As Effie was carried off the stage, commotion rife, and Stacey's name revealed, I closed my eyes.

"My my!" The sound of destruction filled the air, crashing and screaming – my voice above all others.

"That is not the sound of a happy tribute!" Claudius Templesmith said.

"Well, he can't be very happy." The other commentator replied. "He has just been asked to fight against his sister! Such a young girl, what a turn of events!"

"You have to wonder if he will try and protect her." Claudius continued. Something inside me began to rise, a growing anger that bubbled in my gut. "Surely she cannot be that strong, and against a field of seasoned victors one has to wonder if he will simply leave her behind, or move on to protect his mate…" The restraint inside me snapped. Jumping to my feet I surprised everyone, my face red with anger.

"HOW CAN THEY SAY THAT?" I shouted. "HOW CAN THEY DISCUSS US LIKE ANIMALS? LIKE THIS IS A GAME?"

"You have to ignore their comments." Effie said hastily, trying to absorb the tension. "They are simply doing it for the viewe-"

"-**SHE IS MY SISTER**!" The words rang out, echoing around the room and almost shaking the glass of the triple glazed windows. "_She is my __**siste**__r, and I will __**not**__ abandon her."_ As I stalked out of the room I began to hear the beginning of damage control – Blaine reaching out a comforting hand to stop Stacey from following me. My hands shook with rage, but I forced open the door to my room and slammed it shut, slumping down against the wall on the other side and sobbing.

* * *

Nobody disturbed me for a few minutes and I was glad for that. I knew I should be spending time with Blaine, coaching Stacey on what was ahead of us, what she would have to do, but I couldn't. The struggle with juggling them both along with my fragile emotions, was too much. Burying my head between my legs, I tried to focus on the few things I needed to do. Pull myself together, get us all through the Games. And kill President Snow.

* * *

As we ascended back down to the stylist rooms my tears had been wiped away and replaced with a solid, emotionless look. Blaine had returned to his district quarters and I imagined would be punished for his misbehaviour. The fact they were treating him like a dog, that they were not letting him train or participate so his people could watch him die, made me sick. But I fought through it, keeping the mask on.

My outfit from Cinna was of course, masterful. As I stared back at my reflection in the mirror I realised I looked different every time. My body was like a liquid, constantly changing and adapting to fit its surroundings.

"Stacey will be dressed the same." My stylist said, making a few last minute adjustments to the hems of my jacket. "You two need to put on an united front. You are not here to please the Capitol. You are here to win."

* * *

As my sister and I convened by the chariots I was taken aback at her beauty. The plain but powerful nature of the designs meant that every strong feature of hers was highlighted.

"You are beautiful." I whispered as she threw her arms around me again. "Mother would be proud."

"I am proud to have a brother like you." She whispered back.

We were ushered into position. Effie crowed repeatedly over how wonderful we looked and Haymitch simply smiled at the obvious dissension.

"Did you not want to follow the coal route this time?" He asked Cinna.

"Nope." My stylist replied, flashing me a grin that I returned. Once we were firmly placed on the chariot, I crouched down so my face was level with my sisters.

"Listen carefully." I said. "When these doors open, there are going to be thousands of people. People who don't care about us, but pretend they do. Don't listen when they scream your name, don't smile or wave at them. Look forward and think of home, think of Mother and Stevie and everyone that is watching us." Stacey's lip trembled. Her hands were clutching onto the front of the chariot but I could see them shaking.

"Sam…" She said. "I'm scared."

"Don't be." I replied, standing up straight again so my figure towered over her. "I'll be right behind you."

* * *

As the doors opened the roar of the stadium filled the room. Stacey shuddered so I held tightly onto her shoulders, keeping her in place. As the chariots in front of us moved forward I glanced over at Cinna, him and Haymitch standing together, watching us.

"Look straight, stand tall…" Effie said to us, her smile wide and bright. "Enjoy yourself!" As the District 11 chariot pulled away I looked to my stylist again. He nodded – our signal.

"Do it." Quickly I moved to stand behind Stacey. She seemed surprised but then I placed my hands on her shoulders and whispered in her ear.

"I'm right behind you."

* * *

The chariot pulled out and we descended into the melee. Out of all of the tributes – these were the ones everyone wanted to see most. Immediately shouts began to come our way.

"SAM!"

"STACEY!"

"OVER HERE!"

"SMILE FOR US!" Stacey seemed terrified, her whole body shaking as we moved forward, the bumping of the chariot making her rock back and forth slightly.

"Remember home." I whispered again, gritting my teeth together. Slowly as we continued down the procession people began to realise our outfits. Both of us had been dressed in white, complete white. The colour had nothing to do with our district – nothing was white in District 12 – but it represented us. Clean. Pure. We were family and we would not be tainted by the Games. I could see many people beginning to chatter, to point with their fingers and looked shocked. Our faces appeared on the screens and I held tightly onto Stacey's shoulders, my face stern. They wanted to mess with my family? Well we would mess with them. As we reached the middle part of the run and took a deep breath, reaching for the minute remote Cinna had placed in my pocket just before we left. My finger pressed down on the button and suddenly things began to happen. The material on the left side of Stacey's dress began to redden. My sister looked up at me, horror on her face. It looked like she had been stabbed, the red wound growing and growing – staining her beautiful outfit. Glancing across at my left hand side I saw the mark growing on me too. The audience were aghast. What was happening? As we pulled up to the main square I saw the podium where President Snow sat, watching the procession. People would obviously be notifying him of what was happening – what would he be thinking? By the time we drew to a halt in front of everybody, the other tributes gazing open mouthed at us, our wounds had been completed. Red hearts – right where our real ones would be. A vow that nothing anyone could ever bring – not even death – would keep us apart.

The announcement was made, our introduction to the crowds and the cheers that rang in my ears. As I felt Stacey's heart pound through my fingertips I reached up to my heart shaped wound, feeling the red blood-like solution on the tips of my fingers. Covering my entire hand, I turned to the seat of President Snow, locking eyes with him despite the distance.

And then I raised my hand, my bloodstained, dripping hand, in a salute.


	26. The Beginning Of Training

**Chapter 26 - The Beginning Of Training**

When we stepped off the chariots my whole body was shaking with adrenaline. Stacey seemed unable to stand, so we held onto each other and struggled to keep upright. Effie and Portia immediately rushed over, with Haymitch and Cinna strolling casually and smugly behind.

"Are you ok?" Effie asked, as Portia examined Stacey's dress and engaged her in quick conversation. Her eyes flicked to my hand and then widened in shock. "Oh my goodness, did you cut yourself?"

"No." I replied, smiling as the red continued to drip down onto the floor. When Haymitch finally made his way over he cast a long glance up and down my now bloodied appearance. Glancing over to Cinna, who simply shrugged and grinned, he looked back at me and shook his head.

"Well that was a show." He replied. I smiled, knowing we had done something great. We had stood out and we had made a point.

"What was the salute for?" My mentor continued. I glanced back down at my hand, and then looked at him.

"So President Snow knows I will shed all the blood in the world to keep my sister safe." I replied.

* * *

When we returned to the home building everyone was shattered. I showered and cleaned the fake blood off my hands, before pulling on some shorts and wandering into my room. Stacey was already curled up inside the bed, her make up still plastered across her face. For a second I watched her – seeing the strong girl I knew, but also the fragile 16 year old – thrust into a world she didn't understand. Then I padded over and sat down beside her.

"Come on panda eyes." I smiled at the reference to an event years ago and Stacey scowled, rolling over until I pulled her back and handed over a tissue.

"Here." As she carefully wiped off the make up I slipped under the covers, feeling how warm it already was with her body heat. When she had finished she threw the tissue on the floor and then clung to me, her face digging into my chest so I could feel the prick of her fake eyelashes against my skin.

"You did well." I murmured, beginning to feel tiredness creep over me. Stacey lay silent for a couple of minutes, her breathing shallow and fast, before she finally spoke.

"All those people…" She began. "Calling out our names… Do they want us to die?" I squirmed at the question, not really knowing how to answer it.

"They don't want us to die." I replied. "I imagine to some of them, they don't think it's really real. They think we're actors and all that happens is a show." Stacey seemed shocked.

"How can they think that?"

"Because that's what they've been brought up to think. People in the Capitol lead very different lives. Sometimes I don't think they're really sure what's real and what isn't." Another silence fell across the room. Outside I could hear the faint sound of traffic, of fireworks and celebrations.

"It was real to me." Stacey said. I turned my head to find her staring at me. "When you were in there. Mother didn't let us watch everything that happened on the TV, but I did. I watched every second. Sometimes I thought you were going to die." I sighed, bringing up a hand to run through her hairsprayed hair. Stacey was still a little girl, but she had also grown up too much. We both had.

"Well I'm here now." I replied, keeping my hand moving so I gradually broke the strands apart and made it soft again. "I'm here now…"

* * *

The next morning we were awoken early. Effie seemed surprised to see Stacey in the same room as me, although I didn't suppose she realised the full bond within our family. As we entered for breakfast I saw Haymitch sipping on orange juice again.

"Morning." He said, in his usual way. I sat down next to him, seeing Stacey follow suit, and immediately grabbed a plate.

"Do you know what today is?" Haymitch asked Stacey, who had barely had time to even glance at the food before she was immediately questioned.

"Today is your first training day!" Effie exclaimed happily. Haymitch scowled at our friend's tendency to ruin surprises, and sullenly took a bite on his toast before chewing noisily.

"We meet all the other tributes." I added in, trying to be helpful.

"Oh." Stacey replied. I realised that this session would be harder than most. With previous Games the tributes had all been around the same age, save for the odd twelve year olds. I had been able to relate to and match my strength with most of the other candidates. But this time we would be going up against people over twice our age. People with extra strength and power, years spent cultivating tactics as mentors and years with the Capitol frame of mind. Stacey couldn't even begin to relate to these people, and to be honest – neither could I.

"Remember the main rules." Haymitch said, having finished his toast and gotten over the distain over Effie's abounding enthusiasm. "Don't show everyone your most powerful strength." I saw Stacey swallow loudly, wondering if she even knew what her strength was.

"Surely that rule is a little redundant now." I countered, looking across at our mentor. "We've all watched the tapes. The other tributes will know my strengths backwards now."

"There's still a chance to shock them." Haymitch replied. "It's hard to tell where the alliances will form this year, but I'd be careful who you pick."

"Alliances?" I had been figuring it would be just me, Stacey and Blaine. Haymitch set me with a pointed stare.

"_Yes_. Don't forget – these tributes all know each other. Some of them have worked as mentors for years. They know who the key players are."

"And who are these key players?" I asked. Haymitch looked back down at his food.

"That's what you'll have to find out."

* * *

Once we were dressed and ready, I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed about Haymitch's advice. If all the other tributes were so clued up on each other – why didn't he know anything? I suppose being from an outlying district wouldn't exactly curry him any favours, but surely he had seen them? Known their strengths? Either this was some very unfair way of getting me to fend for myself, or my mentor simply didn't know what he was doing. Either way, I was a little perturbed. As we stood by the elevator I noticed Stacey shaking a little. We had both been dressed in similar clothes – my shirts still unbearably tight – and her hair had been plaited into two neat little bunches behind her head.

"Don't worry." I said, taking her hand again so she looked up and I saw worry in her eyes. "Just stick with me. I'll protect you." Before she had a chance to say anything, Effie bustled up and began addressing us, Haymitch standing a way behind with a smirk on his face.

"Now don't forget!" She said. "We have a reputation to uphold! You are the newest victors and _everyone's_ going to be expecting big things from you!" I shook my head, amazed at how completely off the point my friend could get sometimes. Haymitch chuckled, before pushing past her to look at me.

"Remember what I said Sam." He muttered, mainly for my ears only. "_Allies_."

"I'll try." I replied, before the elevator opened and we stepped inside.

* * *

It was strange standing outside the doors again. The last time I had done this, Tina had just experienced a meltdown. We'd stood outside the entrance and talked about getting through, about surviving. Now my sister and I stood here.

"The most important thing is to stay strong." I said, not looking at Stacey, but gripping onto her hand tightly. "There are going to be lots of people in here that might scare you, but most of them are more interested in me than they are you."

"Do they want to kill you?" Stacey asked. I took a deep breath.

"Maybe. But we won't let that happen, will we?" I turned to see her face, smiling so a smaller one crept across her face, and then opened the doors.

* * *

It seemed we weren't the last ones to arrive this time. A small group of tributes had gathered, but there could only be about sixteen. The first person I noticed was Blaine. His eyes immediately lit up, a smile spreading across his face as he rushed over and took my other hand.

"Sam!" He said. I smiled, still gripping tightly onto Stacey, when suddenly two of the tributes turned around to survey us.

"Well if it isn't the Evans clan!" The man said. He was tall, well built and attractive. I remembered him from the tapes as Linus – the District 4 winner that had drowned all his opponents. The woman next to him looked like she was related.

"Sam and Stacey – the nations sweethearts!" The sarcasm in Linus' voice was evident – the woman laughed and I could tell they were mocking us. Stacey quivered beside me, her fear growing already, but I pulled her close and kept my face set.

"But wait!" Linus continued, obviously not done with his taunting. "Look who's joined them? It's the District 1 defector! Blaine Anderson! _And he's alive!_" More laughs rang out. I could see even the other tributes, that hadn't responded to the teasing of Stacey and I, responded to Blaine's. He was well known everywhere.

"Are you feeling ok?" Linus continued, stepping forward slightly so his muscled figure was revealed even further. "Not worried you're gonna _die_ on us are you? Seeing as you're a zombie."

"What does the T on your forehead stand for anyway?" The other woman asked, walking over to stand next to her relative.

"_Traitor_." Suddenly another voice sounded from behind the group. As the tributes parted, I saw the figure of Lydia – Blaine's District 1 partner. She was tall and lithe, her hair styled into beautiful waves that seemed like they couldn't be real, they were so perfectly in place. Her lips were pursed and everything about her seemed to exude superiority.

"Traitor." Linus repeated, sounding like he liked the word. "That fits. I guess when you _betray_ your own district, names like that tend to, _stick_." The pair laughed heartily, obviously finding their joke hilarious, but I simply stared straight forward. 'Fight back' I could almost hear Haymitch shouting in my head, 'don't let them get to you!' But I bade my time. Revenge would come. When I needed it.

* * *

Abruptly the doors behind us opened as several more tributes entered the room. Blaine, Stacey and I moved to let them pass, and then followed them towards the centre of the room, where the training leader was waiting.

"Tributes!" He said. He seemed to be the same man as last time, although I couldn't be sure. "I know the majority of you are all very familiar with this room, but for the ones that aren't…" 21 pairs of eyes turned to look at Stacey. I saw her bite her lip, but squeezed her hand, showing her it was ok. "…here are the rules. You can visit any station you wish. There is strictly no physical combat with any other tributes. Lunch will be served at midday and I recommend you visit as many different stations as possible. Any questions?" The room was silent. I used the opportunity to glance briefly around the room and saw that I was standing next to Felix – the winner of the 60th Hunger Games. He was nearly twice my size and already looked like his hands were itching to get hold of the sickle – his weapon of choice in the Games.

"No? Ok then, off you go."

* * *

There was an immediate rush to the combat stations. Blaine, Stacey and I held back, watching as Linus and Titus from District 2 battled for the front spot. Neither of them seemed afraid of each other – in fact they greeted each other like friends. The realisation made me shiver.

"So, where shall we go first?" Blaine asked. I glanced down at Stacey and saw her wide eyes, filled with apprehension and terror.

"Let's try plant identifying." I said, with a nod.

* * *

There was little need for me to concentrate on the words of the expert – my memory of arena plants still solidified from my Games – so I used the time to cast my eyes around the room and figure out my opponents. Obviously all the Career tributes were off limits. Titus and Andronica, as I now remembered her name, were just too powerful. They looked almost animalistic and the way Andronica moved around the room suggested she hadn't been brought up in the normal human way. The District 4 tributes were already our enemies thanks to Blaine and his massacre of their tributes last year. I imagined Linus had been mentor to Sebastian – had had to watch his protégé gurgle and choke in his own blood as he sat there, powerless. Lydia was also completely off bounds, so I pushed them to the back of my mind and focused on the others.

* * *

With the range of ages, I could figure out who had won their Games earlier. Hunter seemed to be the same age as me – him being the youngest tribute to ever win a Games – and then the Careers were the next youngest. I noticed Laker from District 5 keeping a close distance between him and a young redheaded girl. She must have been Fizz. The other tributes were all significantly older than me. Felix and May from District 10 were probably in their 30s, and the two tributes from District 11 seemed even older. The oldest however, were Henry and Holly from District 9. Henry had won the 44th Hunger Games – a deep forest that had seen the tributes cloaked in darkness for most of the time. Night vision goggles had been essential that year, and once he had stolen a pair from the Career camp he'd been able to pick the tributes off one by one until only he was left. Holly had won the 23rd Hunger Games, so was nearly 70. The two of them skated around the edge of the room, glancing at the other animated tributes with disdain and muttering amongst themselves. I had to admire their ability to stay out of the childish play – the battle of egos. Maybe if I worked out the way they ticked they would make some powerful allies.

* * *

"Hey Sam." Blaine said, suddenly bringing me out of my deep thoughts to push a flower in front of my nose. "What's this?"

"Elderflower." Stacey replied, before I even had time to open my mouth. She blushed, but the memory from my previous Games, the way I had spoken those exact words in the exact same way, froze me for a second.

"Excellent!" The station expert smiled happily at Stacey, obviously pleased she was learning quickly. As I began to drift off again I noticed two tributes in the station next to ours, painting rather strange pictures on each other's arms.

"Who are they?" I asked Blaine, nudging him and then pointing towards the pair.

"That's Violet and Victor from District 3." It wasn't hard to distinguish them both. Like her namesake, Violet had striking purple hair, and for some reason – violent green eyes. Victor's skin was pale and lifeless, his eyes a dull brown with pupils that flicked about erratically, as if always expecting an attacker to come from behind.

"Wow." I replied, holding onto the syllable for a couple of seconds. "Creepy."

"You got that." I tried to focus on the symbols Victor was painting on his partner's arm. Something about them reminded me of a tape we had watched – something one of the tributes had done…

"Do you want to move on now?" Stacey suddenly asked me. Her face seemed bright with the success of her first endeavour, so I tore my eyes away from the District 3 tributes and moved on.

* * *

The morning progressed quickly. As we moved from station to station, I wondered if any of the tributes would come up and talk to us, try and establish an alliance. Everyone seemed to want to keep themselves to themselves however, apart from the Careers, whose loud and arrogant voices could be heard wherever you positioned yourself.

* * *

When lunch was served the similar set up of 7 tables lay before us. As the Careers all descended on one, Blaine, Stacey and I grabbed a plate and started to pile them high. I was surprised at how hungry I was, seeing as all we had really done that morning was go through plants and learn how to tie ropes. Stacey also placed a lot of food on her plate – something that made me immensely happy. As we sat down I realised Blaine was wolfing his chicken down before we had even fully settled, leaving his knife and fork behind to tear at the meat with his teeth like an animal.

"Are you eating? In your home building?" I asked him, trying not to let the alarm inside me show. Blaine paused momentarily from his devouring and nodded.

"Yes."

"Well?" He seemed confused at the question.

"What do you mean?"

"_Are you eating as well as Lydia_?" My voice had become low and hissed. Blaine's face dropped and he immediately tried to cover his tracks.

"Lydia and I eat at…different times…" I knew it. Not only had District 1 turned their back on Blaine within their own walls, they were doing it here too. Who knows how he had been punished for his visit to our floor the afternoon before.

"_This isn't right_." I hissed again. Blaine's eyes pleaded with me not to make a scene, so I turned away and ignored his eating.

* * *

The other tributes had by now, mostly moved to their tables. Victor and Violet had taken up their own spot, eating with bowed heads and muttering to each other. Henry and Holly had done the same. Laker and Fizz had commandeered a table, but if anyone went within a foot of it Laker emitted a growl so fierce it sent the other tributes skittering away. I wondered what his game plan was – especially as Fizz seemed to be blissfully unaffected by his protectiveness. I was about to scan the other tables and begin my vetting process again, when suddenly two figures appeared right in front of us.

* * *

"Hello." Looking up I saw an man and a woman, both in their mid twenties. The man had brown curly hair, slightly more wavy than Blaine's, and the woman long blonde hair that fell almost to her waist. Both sported cheesy grins – something that I knew didn't bode well – but there was nothing that could be done about it.

"Hello." Stacey said, once again the only one of us with any manners. The pair sat down, placing their plates in front of them and then looking at the three of us with intrigue, before continuing.

"_You_ must be Stacey." The woman said. She leant towards Stacey, eyeing her with interest. "I'm Cassandra." Suddenly she held out her hand. Stacey stared at it for a couple of seconds, before taking it and daintily shaking. Cassandra… Where had I heard that name before?

"This is Cooper." Cassandra cast a thumb to her right to point at the man. He seemed also to be fixing my sister with a strange look, but this one made me feel nervous.

"En chante." He said. This time Stacey knew to hold out her hand when one was presented to her, but instead of shaking it, the brown haired man leant his head over to kiss the top. Stacey giggled, obviously never having experienced such a sensation before, and he smiled, before reluctantly letting her go and returning to his seat.

"So how are you finding the Capitol?" I noticed with apprehension that all the conversation was directed Stacey's way.

"It's been a little hard to adjust." I said, butting in before my sister had time to answer. "But we're getting used to it." Cassandra and Cooper scowled at me like I had just spoilt Christmas.

"Interesting…" Cassandra said, drawing the word out in a way that showed it most definitely was not "…_Sam_."

"How are you finding it?" Abruptly Blaine joined in the conversation. I silently cheered him for backing us up. Again Cooper and Cassandra seemed less than impressed, the former scowling for a second whilst he came up with an answer.

"_Riveting_." He eventually said. All this controversy, all this drama, all this…_beauty_." Suddenly he looked at Stacey again. I saw her blush and knew something was definitely not right. "It's rather _fascinating_."

"Sam said in the evenings the Capitol people throw parties that go on till four in the morning!" The enthusiasm in my sister's voice made the two tributes smile and tilt their heads to the side.

"They most certainly do." Cooper replied. "Have _you_ ever been to a party Stacey?"

"Not really. We had parties at the end of school, but our parents were always there."

"_Parents_." Cooper scoffed, another strange look on his face. "Such cumbersome creatures."

"When I'm eighteen Mother said I'm allowed to go to parties on my own, but that's two years from now, so-" Suddenly Cooper took hold of Stacey's hand again. The movement was a little fast, so my sister was temporarily shocked, but she managed to regain herself.

"Sixteen…" The man said, staring wistfully forward and running his fingers across her palm. "So _young_, so _fragile_, so…_innocent_."

"I don't think I'm innocent." Stacey replied, unaware of the hidden message behind the words. "When I was at school everyone used to say I was a rebel."

"I _do_ like a rebel…" Cooper replied, grinning. I could feel the anger building up inside of me, the urge to rip Cooper's hand away and his whole arm off in the process bubbling inside of me, but I fought away the desire.

"Would you like to be our allies? In the Games?" The question stunned me. Blaine and I both dropped our cutlery and food respectively, mouths falling open.

"Oh _Stacey_…" Cooper said, a giant grin on his face as he took in or expressions. "I would _love_ to be your ally. But Cassandra and I have risked enough coming over to sit on the _traitor's_ table – I don't think it would be wise to push our luck any further." Finally the realisation seemed to sink in to my sister. She tried to move her hand away from Cooper's, but he held on fast.

"Blaine isn't a traitor-"

"-However, if you find yourself ditching him and your insufferable brother – do come and find us. I'm sure there are lots of things we could achieve…_together_."

* * *

Suddenly it became too much. Ripping Cooper's hand away I threw him backwards so he tipped over the bench and sent him and Cassandra crashing to the floor. The noise echoed around the room – making every tribute turn to look at us.

"Don't _touch_ my sister!" I exclaimed, my voice full of venom and anger. "If you so much come _near_ her again I will rip your perverted little dick off and make you _eat_ it!" Cooper seemed a little dazed, the fall to the floor having made him hit his head and cut his lip. As I walked round the end of the table, I lifted my foot to hover right over his head.

"Do you understand?" I said menacingly. When there was no reply, I let my foot push down gently so it squashed his face into the floor. "_Do you understand_?"

"Yes!" Cooper squeaked, finally regaining the ability to talk. When I released his head he scrambled to a sitting position, running his hands through his hair.

"Does anyone else wanna try?" I exclaimed, directing my words to the 19 other tributes sitting there, amazed. "Anyone? Be my guest – and I will _**kill**_ you." Suddenly I felt Blaine tugging lightly on my shirt. I turned around, my hands still raised in the air as a threat, and saw Stacey beginning to cry. Immediately my anger vanished – I dropped back down into my seat and put my arms around her.

"Hey…" I whispered, trying to sound as comforting as possible. "Hey, are you ok?"

"I…I thought they were…friendly…" Stacey sniffled, wiping her nose with her hands so Blaine fumbled around for a tissue and handed it to her. "I thought I was…trying to…help…"

"I know." I replied, pulling her close so she buried her head in my chest, Cassandra and Cooper staggering away to another empty table to lick their wounds. "I know…"

* * *

**A/N - In this story, Cooper is not related to Blaine**


	27. The Negotiations Of Experts

**Chapter 27 - The Negotiations Of Experts**

I figured word would have got out to the mentors and escorts about my little scene at lunch, so was preparing for the worst as Stacey and I ascended up the elevator to the twelfth floor. When we arrived however, both of us found Haymitch engaged in a rather different conversation.

"It's hardly asking much! He's been _tortured_ in his own district – surely he deserves equal treatment now?" A woman dressed formally – obviously someone from the Capitol – stood next to the District 1 escort that had come looking for Blaine the day before. I realised they were talking about Blaine, but couldn't imagine why.

"He is _getting_ equal treatment." The District 1 woman replied. "Besides, how we treat and train our tributes is none of your concern."

"It is when one of them is very much connected to us! How can you expect me to sit back and watch this blatant rule breaking?" Suddenly our presence was realised. The District 1 woman immediately looked embarrassed, turning her head away in hope that we hadn't seen her face. Haymitch looked riled, but simply nodded his head at us.

"Evening Sam, Stacey." He said. "Would you mind going off to your rooms for a second? Effie wants to talk to you about something." The excuse was weak, but the way the Capitol official was looking at me suggested we follow. Hurriedly walking past the group I made my way to our room, before immediately crouching by the half-open door and listening.

"So if you are so _displeased_ with our conduct, what are you proposing to do about it?"

"Let Blaine be trained here." My mouth dropped open. _Here_? What was Haymitch doing?

"With _District 12_? What an _outrage_!" The District 1 woman seemed completely apoplectic at the thought. As she turned to the Capitol official, I saw her raise her eyebrows at the pair of them.

"Think about it. We all know you hate Blaine, that he's a stain on your District's history and blah blah blah. It's obvious that you don't want to train him, or if you do will not do it to your normal standards. So let _us _take care of him. You get the monkey off your back, and more time to focus on Lydia." You had to admire our mentor. He had guts. As I watched the District 1 mentor's face turn a more and more violent shade of purple, Haymitch turned to the official.

"What do you think?"

"I think it's despicable! You win _one_ Games and you think you can come in here and order _me_ about what _I _should be doing with _my_-"

"-I wasn't talking to you sunshine." Haymitch said with a smile. The purple became scarlet. "What do _you_ think?" I held my breath as the Capitol official pondered.

"Well…" She began. "Obviously this is a very tender situation. It is hard to deny that Blaine's health is far below that of his district partners, however he has committed a federal crime in his district."

"A _federal crime_? He's a _disgrace_! He should have been _hung_!" Anger began to brew inside of me again at the sound of this vile woman. I hope she got what was coming to her.

"You do understand Haymitch, that taking on three tributes will put a strain on you and your team?"

"Yes." Haymitch replied, sounding certain. "I am very aware of this. However, I feel if Blaine were _not_ to be around us, the strain it would put on my tributes would be significantly greater." That meant me. If I knew Blaine was still suffering, there was no way I would be able to concentrate. And that would affect Stacey too.

"Do you have sufficient living space for Blaine?"

"Yes. More than enough."

"And you understand that once this agreement has been made, it cannot be revoked?"

"Of course." The Capitol official sighed, looking back and forth between my friend, and my enemy.

"Then it is settled. From now on, Blaine Anderson will be mentored and trained with District 12." The sound that flew from the District 1 mentor's mouth was something between a cat being strangled and a cow mooing. She lurched forward, hands ready to squeeze round Haymitch's neck, but several guards were there before that could happen.

"THIS IS PREPOSTEROUS!" She screamed, her arms flailing as she fought to be free of the guards, eyes wild with fire. "YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS! TRAITORS! ALL OF YOU!"

"Good luck in the Games." Haymitch replied, unable to wipe the huge satisfied smirk off his face. "May the odds be ever in your favour." As the District 1 woman was dragged out, and the Capitol official nodded and signed a few papers, Haymitch turned towards our door with an exultant look on his face.

"Who's the daddy?" He asked.

"YOU!" Stacey replied, running forward and hurling herself into his arms.

When Blaine appeared from the elevator, loaded with bags and an even bigger smile on his face, my whole body sagged in relief. Both of us dropped everything to run over and wrap ourselves in each other's arms.

"Thank you." Blaine whispered into my ear, the gratitude unmistakeable.

"It's not me you need to thank." I replied. "It's Haymitch."

* * *

Dinner was served pretty quickly. Blaine's things had been taken away to my room and all of us sat around the table, animatedly discussing what we had learnt today. Stacey seemed more than happy to buzz away about life-saving plants to Effie, so Blaine and I could sit entwined together, my fingers playing with his and drawing tiny little circles on the tips.

"So…" Haymitch had arrived just as the food was served. I noticed he eyed me and Blaine with a warm smile as he sat down, so unlike the way he had treated us on the victory tour train. Blaine had been forced to remove himself from my lap, but pushed his chair next to mine so our arms were still touching as we reached for the food.

"I hear you pissed off District 7." Immediately my face fell. So I wasn't getting away with it. Braving a glance up at Haymitch I saw his expression looked to be a mixture of annoyed and amused.

"Maybe." I replied, taking on the same stance. Haymitch sighed. "They were threatening Stacey!" I countered, waving my knife in the air animatedly so Effie lurched back into her chair. "Cooper, he was…he was _grooming_ her!" Effie made a noise, as if someone had said something disgusting. Haymitch sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Oh Cooper…" He replied, speaking wistfully to himself. "_Still_ can't get over the little girls…"

"It was disgusting." Blaine added, sounding like he meant it. "I'm surprised Sam didn't step in sooner."

"Well District 7 had connections with District 10." Haymitch said in reply. "We needed them."

"District 10?" I asked. That was Felix and May. "Why them?" I knew Felix was powerful, and that May's victory had had something to do with traps and poison, but didn't think they stood out as anyone powerful.

"It doesn't matter now." Haymitch replied sullenly. "The alliance is broken."

"Well if they were friends with Cooper, then we don't want them on our team anyway!" Stacey added spitefully. I knew she was only trying to help the situation, but it was pretty pointless given the circumstances.

"Did you find any other potentials?" Haymitch asked, after a long pause and batch of sighing.

"Not really." I replied, being honest. "What about District 3?"

"District _3_?" Haymitch said, sounding surprised. "No way." The response surprised me. "They're far too unpredictable. It's almost impossible to control Victor, and Violet is the same. They'll either win the Games, or completely self-destruct. It's too much of a risk." For a second he glanced over at Stacey, who was unaware of her significance to the plot, and I understood his reasoning right away.

"What about District 11?" I figured the connection to Rory and Marley would at least be good enough to get us a look in.

"They're definitely ones to try for. But you need some _fighters_. You need more _power_…"

"Laker looked like he was trying to protect something." Blaine suddenly said, holding up his fork as he spoke. "He wouldn't let anybody near Fizz."

"Ahh…Fizz." Our mentor's eyes widened. "Fizz is the key. If you use her in the right way, she can be deadly."

"So we try and recruit her?"

"Looks like Laker has already got that covered. If he knows what's good for himself he'll keep her close to stay alive." So _that_ was why Laker had been so protective. Fizz was his game plan.

"If he loses her, he's screwed." Haymitch continued, almost chuckling. "But it's a good idea."

"So so far we have District 11 and…nothing." I said, slumping back into my seat in defeat. What use I had been today. All I had done is made ourselves some enemies – the complete opposite of what I had been instructed to do. Haymitch sighed, taking another bite out of his food and chewing thoughtfully.

"Leave me to it." He said. "I'll sort something out."

* * *

The next day we were back in the training arena. Blaine, Stacey and I decided to band together again, moving this time onto the camouflage painting that District 3 had been so interested in the day before. I was finding the non-combat stations a little taxing – my fingers itching to grab hold of a knife or even a sword, chop up some dummies and give the Careers something to think about. I was watching Titus throw a spear from nearly 50 metres to hit a dummy straight in the chest when suddenly another voice alerted me to my surroundings.

"That was a brave thing you did." Turning my head away, I found myself almost face to face with the male tribute from District 11. His name was Jethro. Haymitch was good friends with a lot of the District 11 victors – in particular Chaff, who had mentored Rory and Marley. Jethro had won the 46th Hunger Games using an extensive knowledge of plants as his weapon, and I knew he was exceedingly clever.

"Hmm?" I replied, not really understanding what he meant. Suddenly I realised I was supposed to be being polite. "Sorry, what do you mean?" Jethro smiled.

"Standing up against Cooper and Cassandra. It can't have been easy." Realisation dawned. He was commenting on my scene the other day. Great – why hadn't I realised that? Now I looked stupid and unfriendly.

"Oh yes." I replied, hoping I didn't sound too forced. "I suppose it did take…something." For some reason Jethro didn't seem put off by my pathetic attempts at conversation. Turning his head around, he motioned for someone to come over, and I saw the slender figure of Camille, the District 11 female tribute glide towards us. She had won the 49th Games – the one before Haymitch's. There was only one year between their ages, so they had pretty much grown up around the event together.

"What are you talking about?" She asked when she reached us. I blushed, knowing it had been pretty much nothing.

"Sam's tactics against District 7." Jethro replied with a smile. Camille sat down and looked at me closely, as if she were trying to gauge something.

"Well, I never liked that Cassandra girl anyway." She said after a while. A smile crept across her face and I knew I was safe.

"How is she coping?" Jethro asked, moving the conversation onto Stacey. As I looked over I saw her drawing delicate flowers onto her arm, occasionally showing Blaine her work.

"Well, I guess." I replied. "Considering…" There were so many things I thought about Stacey each day. If she really was coping, if somehow she had built up a resistance to all the pain, or was simply hiding it away until it all came out in a rush or a violent episode like me. Maybe she was like Mother, or maybe a monster lay inside her, a monster that only the Games would bring out.

"It's only natural to worry." Camille said, bringing my attention back to my new friends again. "She's your sister, she's young…"

"And she shouldn't be here." Again I realised my words only after I had said them. Camille and Jethro exchanged looks, not ones of distain or amusement, more of…sympathy.

"Tell Haymitch I said hello." Camille said softly. She smiled again, a warm lovely smile that reminded me of home, of Mother and roast lamb. Then, her and Jethro silently bid their goodbyes and walked off to another station.

* * *

I guessed as meetings went, that hadn't been disastrous. We hadn't mentioned anything about an alliance, but were you supposed to? Was it sensible to talk tactics at this time? I didn't know, and the moment was gone anyway. Walking back over to Stacey and Blaine, I saw them admiring their handiwork and showing it to each other.

"Look!" Stacey exclaimed when she saw me coming. The flowers looked just like the ones at home, on the lake we used to go to when father was still alive.

"Very nice." I said, smiling and admiring the craftsmanship. Blaine had painted a set of flowers I recognised – forget-me-knots.

"Do you like them?" He asked me, a loving smile on his face. I nodded.

"Yes. Very much so."

"You need to do one Sam!" My sister jumped up, tugging on my sleeve with the arm that wasn't covered in paint. I scrunched up my face, knowing what I had to say but not being sure how to broach it.

"Sorry Stace, I think I might go and do some of the combat stations – make sure I'm still up to scratch." Her face fell. I saw the sadness in her eyes, the realisation that I wanted to be somewhere else.

"Can we all go?" She asked, her voice losing its original enthusiasm. Immediately I shook my head.

"No. There's no need for you to do any combat."

"Why not?"

"Because you won't be doing any fighting." Suddenly Blaine rose to his feet.

"Sam – can I have a word with you for a second?" There was a look in his eyes, a secret message for me to follow. I looked back at Stacey, who still seemed put out at my refusal to co-operate, and reluctantly followed.

* * *

"_No fighting_?" I could hear the disbelief in my boyfriend's voice. Shrugging my shoulders I scuffed the tips of my shoes against the floor.

"She won't need to. I'll protect her."

"_Sam_." The word rang in my ears, exasperated and "You know you can't guarantee that."

"Yes I can! She stays with me at all times. If anyone attacks us – I deal with it."

"And what if you're not there?" I looked up at him in horror. What was he suggesting?

"What if we get lost, or you're fighting someone else, or you're injured – what is she supposed to do then?"

"She has you?" Blaine sighed, his fingers scrunching up in frustration.

"She needs to be able to fight Sam. Even if it's only just a little. If you keep her away you'll only cause more damage in the long run." He was right. Trying to protect Stacey worked in theory, but in practice it could be her death sentence. For a while I still tried to protest, tried to think of a way that Stacey could avoid touching any weapons, but still have a chance of coming out of this alive.

"…_Fine_." I sighed, my whole body sagging as I resigned myself to defeat. Blaine smiled, touching me on the arm gently before turning to walk back to Stacey.

"Come on." I said to my sister as I passed her, seeing her look up in confusion as we moved towards the combat area. "Let's go."

* * *

As we walked towards the combat station everyone immediately turned to look at us. Sophie and Dean from District 6 fixed us with a look of interest, Linus and Trix smirked and Lydia simply glared. When we reached the knife-throwing stand I glanced briefly at the trainer and saw him nod his head. I knew everyone would be watching now – wanting to see how the new girl would fare and if she had any strength at all – but I tried to block it out of my mind and focus purely on my sister.

"Ok…" I muttered under my breath, crouching down so I was level with Stacey, but also so our conversation could be heard only by us and Blaine. "You need to take a knife." Pointing to the array of weapons neatly arranged on a stand, I saw Stacey's eyes widen. All those years of putting on make up and threatening a revolution – she had never actually held a weapon. As she slowly reached out her hand I gently motioned with my expression which one she should take. Her hand closed around the hilt of the small knife and she drew it towards her. The metal was well cut, glinting in the lights from above and I saw the wonder in her eyes as she surveyed it.

"Get used to the feeling." I muttered again. Stacey slowly turned her wrist, gently sweeping the knife backwards and forwards as if she were spreading butter on bread. When she made a small stabbing motion her eyes immediately flicked to me, panicked.

"It's ok." My hand reached out to grab hold of my own knife, gripping it tightly and spinning it once in my hand to show the others that I was skilled. "Now look at the target." Both of us turned to look at the dummy. It was small – probably no taller than Blaine – and stood about five metres away from us. Targets of this kind were child's play for me, but Stacey _was_ a child.

"You need to hit it in the chest." I said. Stacey turned to look at me, fear in her eyes. Hitting a dummy was nothing like hitting a real person. "Don't worry." I murmured, seeing her distress and knowing the others would be beginning to wonder. "It's not real." Stacey turned back towards the range, flicking the knife around her fingers and then gripping it tightly and hurling it towards the target.

The knife bounced off the dummy's left arm and clattered to the floor. Voices around me chuckled, the sound of people shaking their heads and walking away filling my ears. Stacey seemed mortified, dropping her head and letting her cheeks flush red.

"Try again." I said, gruffly shoving my knife into her hand, my speech rushed. I wanted people to see – I didn't want them to think Stacey was a target. My sister seemed a little shocked at my abruptness, but gripped hold of the knife again and took her position.

"Take your time, imagine where you want the point to hit and follow it with your arm." I said, a little more kindly. Stacey bit her lip in concentration, her eyes squinting at the dummy, and let go of the knife again. It spun through the air a couple of times, heading towards the dummy and embedding itself in it's stomach.

"Good!" I exclaimed. "That was good!" Briefly I turned around to survey the crowd – most of the tributes had moved away after the first failure, but Linus still stood there with a smug grin on his face. As Stacey gripped hold of another knife, sending it spinning towards the target again, I looked over at Blaine. He seemed happy with my sister's success, but there was a sadness in his eyes. He began to walk over, obviously understanding that it was his turn to watch, and I touched his arm as I passed and headed towards the other range.

* * *

It felt almost calming to have a sword in my hand again. The knives had reminded me of home, but this, this was different. There were no poles here – poorly crafted weapons made from scraps. The metal I held in my hand now had been expertly made – probably forged in the finest underground workshops. I cast my eyes along the blade, seeing the reflection of the room in it and imagining the destruction that was possible. I could take out everyone, everyone in this room. With a few swipes. Checking myself back into reality I watched at the computer simulation whirred into action. Pretty soon several moving targets would be sent my way – computer generated tributes set on destroying me. I took a few deep breaths and then unleashed hell.

* * *

When all the 'tributes' lay in little pixelated piles around me, I sighed in satisfaction. The adrenaline coursing through my veins died down slowly and I allowed myself to turn back towards the rest of the arena. Surprisingly, I found several other tributes watching me. May quickly dropped her eyes to the floor, busying herself with the activity she was on, and Felix did the same. Jethro simply smiled in a way I couldn't understand and Titus fixed me with a glare that could only be described as hateful. We locked eyes for a few seconds, trading messages of threat and destruction, before I broke away and began to clear up, ready to head back to my sister.

* * *

I wasn't expecting any more interaction from the other tributes, so when I turned around and came face to face with one of them, I let out a little shout. Fizz was about half a foot shorter than me, her hair spiralling out in tight little red curls like she had been electrocuted herself. Her body seemed small and lithe, but I knew she could kill me in a second if she wanted to. For a brief moment I didn't know what to say – neither of us had any reason to really interact, and the look in her eyes was strange. Not welcoming, but not threatening either.

"You know how to use a sword." She said plainly. I couldn't tell if she was impressed, or was just simply stating a fact. Titus seemed to have noticed my interaction with the District 5 tribute, and was currently muttering to Linus. My eyes focused on them for a brief moment, before Fizz spoke again and brought me back to her.

"Here." Suddenly something was thrust towards me. I cast my eyes downwards to see a small hand held radio, about the size of my palm. The object had no connection to me, or significance. I was baffled.

"Take it." Fizz said, motioning for me to pick up the radio from her outstretched hand. Her eyes were fixed on mine and I knew this wasn't a tactical exchange. This had nothing to do with the Games – just me and her. "You deserve to know." My brain whirred. Fizz was powerful. For all I knew this was a trap – an item to get me expelled from the Games or something that would slowly poison or hinder me as time went on. But it was just a radio. I reached out my hand, taking the item and slipping it quickly in my pocket, before suddenly another figure marched up towards us with a look of rage on his face.

* * *

"_What are you doing_?" Laker thundered towards Fizz, directing his words to her, before roughly pushing past and grabbing me by the collar. My whole body was lifted off the ground, an amazing feat.

"_Why are you talking to her? What did you do_?" He yelled at me. Several of the other tributes had stopped to look at us again – I was beginning to resent always being in the spotlight. Laker's hand moved to sit round my neck – his perfect place for killing people. I began to feel the air to my brain getting cut off, but managed to hiss out a few words.

"Are you going to strangle me?" I asked. Laker's eyes narrowed in an even deeper rage – his fingers closed around my throat and I felt my strength wane as the oxygen debt grew.

Suddenly a hand fell on Laker's shoulder.

"Laker. Stop." Trix spoke calmly but forcefully – as if nothing was really the matter but she wanted it to stop anyway. Laker looked at her with stubborn eyes, his hand still tightening on my throat, but then reluctantly he let me go. I slid to the floor, gasping for breath and trying to haul myself up as quickly as possible to avoid looking weak.

"_What were you talking about_?" Laker hissed, still extremely angry. Fizz looked at him like he was a small child.

"Nothing. I was just saying hello. Come along now." As she took hold of his arm, I saw her look at me pointedly for a split second. She had covered my back, but still let me be almost strangled. The radio still sat in my pocket, and I carefully placed my hand over it as the couple walked off to the other side of the arena.

* * *

Back in the home building Blaine and I examined the radio. We sat on the bed, bodies touching but minds focused. Stacey was exhausted from the day's work, so lay across my lap with her eyes closed.

"Why do you think she gave it to you?" Blaine asked. I ran my fingers along the plastic, shaking my head.

"I'm not sure. She said I _needed to know_ about something." I pulled the aerial up, feeling the soft weight of Stacey rising and falling beneath me.

"Do you think it's dangerous?" Blaine asked. I pondered the statement for a second.

"No."

"Then let's just try."

* * *

The radio crackled as it switched on. I realised it wasn't tuned to any specific channel so twisted the dial, trying to listen for any faint sounds. Gradually a voice became audible – a voice I had never heard before.

"Reports are still flooding through of the…reports are coming in from our team of experts…" I struggled to get a clear sound, frustration building up inside of me and I inched the dial around slowly.

"The streets of District 12 amok with rebels…" Suddenly I froze.

"Stacey," I said, gently shaking my sister awake so she stirred and looked up at me, "Stacey listen to this." We crowded round the radio, listening to the crackled broadcasts about our District, and several others.

"Riots have broken out across the outerlying districts, centered around District 12, after the events of the reaping that saw two Evans children sent to the Capitol…"

"Fighting in the streets…"

"Buildings destroyed…"

"Callings for a rebellion…" The words echoed out around the room, ringing in my head as we huddled together – clinging to hope.


End file.
